Trapped
by CousCous
Summary: Inuyasha has found his way to America after the tragic death of his one true love. But if his one true love is gone, then what are these new feelings he is experiencing for a certain gifted youngster.
1. chapter 1

Note: The X-Men I'm using is based on the TV show (X-Men Evolution) so it really different from the movie and the original series. Rogue doesn't have a boyfriend, Bobby and Kitty aren't together, etc…

Also this is from the pre-Apocalypse, pre Jean/Scott relationship days, but the world does know about mutants.

Let me know if I make any mistakes or if you have any questions or comments about the story. I love feedback. :)

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CHAPTER 1

-**Rogue**-

A deathly silence passed over us as we approached the clearing. There was no more nervous laughter or hushed whispering. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I envisioned the alleged killer. Witnesses described him as terrifying with cold ruthless eyes. Police reports comment on his blinding speed and precision. We have details from eye-witnesses, the medics and cops first on the scene, and from the coroners who inspected each corpse.

In my mind's eye I picture a blood soaked monster, grinning manically as humans fall prey to his deadly claws. I shuddered at the thought of having to face him, but we do what we must.

Thanks to a helpful anonymous tip called into the police and Logan's heightened senses, we more or less knew exactly where the Killer was. We used this knowledge to our advantage. A monster like that would never give up quietly, and if he wouldn't surrender to the police he was definitely not going to surrender to us.

Jean and Scott, being the most experienced and least imposing of the group, were chosen to make initial contact. The plan was to corner him into speaking with them first. Previous attempts at reaching out to the Killer caused him to bolt, and we hoped that he'd cooperate once he was surrounded and had no other choice. Maybe once the Killer realized who he was dealing with he'd concede and come in quietly. If he refused to cooperate or ran again, our reserves would force him to yield.

Only the oldest students were given permission to accompany Logan on this mission. Each of us was more than capable, and I trusted my team mates to stop the Killer if he chose to flee in their direction. Myself and the rest of the reserves spread out to form a loose circle around the clearing, each of us ducking behind trees and brush to avoid premature detection.

Scott and Jean, looking tense but determined, stood off to one side and waited for the rest of the team to get into position. Their instructions were to try and reason with the Killer first; explain that they could help him control his abilities and that there were others like him. They were to give him the opportunity to prove his innocence and give his side of the story, but if at any point during the interaction the Killer grew hostile or looked flighty, Scott and Jean would attempt to subdue him while the reserves and I intervened if necessary.

Reports suggested that the Killer knew full well what he was doing, but we all know how biased humans are. Any hint of a supernatural problem and there's a manhunt for the "crazed" mutant responsible.

Scott and Jean didn't think it would get that far. The Professor didn't either; the three were hoping it was the case of a mutant who had difficulty controlling their powers, especially since the Professor has never been able to detect him using his abilities with Cerebro. Logan wasn't nearly as optimistic. "Nobody kills like that by accident." He warned gruffly.

With the team in place and ready to go, I chanced a peek from behind my tree, hoping to sneak a glance at our quarry and that he wouldn't be looking my way. I was still too far to make him out clearly, but from where I stood he appeared to be sleeping against the base of a sole pine in the center of the small glade.

He was one of the lucky ones whose mutation didn't cause physical disfigurement—at least none that I could see. Despite his silvery, white hair I would say he looked almost normal. Without the coroner's report indicating that his victims were marred with claw marks, I wouldn't have known he had them. Maybe they're retractable like a cat?

Somewhere to the left of me I heard faint rustling. It had been dry the last few days and the hard ground and crisp leaves made it difficult to move around without making noise. So far we've been careful and lucky. Despite the slight noise we made in our approach, the Killer had yet to pick up on our presence.

As feeble as the sound was, I caught something by the Killers head twitch. I craned my neck trying to get a better look, 100% sure that his eyes were closed and that he had no idea of our existence. More rustles in the brush, this time coming from the right, and again I noticed the Killer move. I squinted then gasped, surprised. This mutant wasn't as normal looking as I thought. On the top of his startlingly white hair, were startlingly white ears! Small and pointy like a cat or wolf, they sat on the top of his head, perking towards each whisper in the forest. I retreated behind the cover of my tree as they twitched again, this time in my direction.

Could he hear us? Is he aware of our plan and intentions? I couldn't tell. Other than the slight tic of his ears he hadn't made any other sign of being awake, and if he truly knew of our close proximity he would have fled by now, right?

Right, I decided, nodding in silent affirmation…unless he really was innocent and hoping for our help controlling the new strange powers that seemed to have appeared out of no-where, but unknown to him were there all along, dormant since birth. No, I frowned, thinking back to the scenes of blood and gore from the killings. They're _still_ being shown on all the news stations as the police search for the monster child slayer in vain. Logan was right, there's no way someone could accidentally do _that_ to children. That man was a cold blooded killer and the X-Men were here to bring him to justice. We're lucky to have the Professor. In order for us to get first dibs on the Killer, he had to wipe out the mind of nearly half the Bayville Police Department so they had no recollection of the anonymous tip that placed the Killer near the this forest.

I checked my watch. Any second now Scott and Jean would make their way into the clearing and confront that monster, and I had to be ready to fight. From what we've learned that man resting peacefully in the clearing is a dangerous mutant and I was ready for the worst. This was no time to be caught off guard.

-**Inuyasha**-

I sensed them coming closer. Judging by their scent it was a group of humans. At first, I thought they were just passing through—a group of friends camping perhaps—but they were advancing too fast in my direction for that.

Still, I dismissed them; a group of friends camping and in a hurry then? No one knew who I was or that I was here. There's no reason for anyone to be after me.

When the humans split up into a V formation and began a flanking maneuver I began regretting my decision to stay. Still, if necessary I could out run them all with my demonic speed. No big deal. I didn't smell any gunpowder so this couldn't be the military or police—they'd never attack unarmed, so I would stay for curiosities sake. If they were hostile I'd retreat into the depths of the forest and stay hidden in the trees until they gave up their ridiculous search for me.

Their loud approach and clumsy movements I took as assurance. How much of a threat could a group of humans be?

My ears twitched at each snapping branch and rustle of brush. One tripped over a stray branch, someone else was breathing heavily. Another, a female judging by the pitch, gasped. Even the slightest noise could mean grave danger. They may be mere humans, but technology's a bitch sometimes.

I checked again for the scent of cordite or nitroglycerin used in modern gunpowder. Now that they were closer it would be much easier to detect. No way was I letting myself get caught off guard and risk injury because some moron got his hands on a firearm. Besides, it's not my intention to harm them, and having a fuck load of humans with weapons cocked and loaded in my direction would make that a necessity. If they didn't give me a reason to hurt them, I wouldn't. I gave her my word and I won't break another promise. I owe her that much.

There was a rustle of branches and footsteps. Two of the humans were approaching; one male, one female. Interesting, up until this point the group looked as though they were setting up an ambush. Maybe they still are. The two advancing humans could be decoys.

I watched their progress through slit lids, minding the rest of the humans with my other senses. The duo was trying pathetically hard to approach silently. My eyes appeared to be closed, and I hadn't moved. The humans must have assumed I was soundly sleeping and oblivious to their presence. Idiots.

Fear permeated their scent, and I almost smiled at the fact. If it was me they were looking for after all, they knew what I was. Normal humans wouldn't be afraid of one man, especially when they outnumber their prey eight to one. I wasn't sure if this was a good or bad thing yet, but experience has taught me that fear makes people stupid.

Their fear meant they'd be anxious and quicker to jump to conclusions about the situation. Assuming they were afraid because of what I am, I'd have to be careful to not make any movements that could be misinterpreted. I didn't smell any guns on them—this was good, but guns aren't the only dangerous weapons in this era. Better to be safe rather than sorry. With this thought in mind, I closed my eyes fully and relaxed my posture slightly. I didn't need my eyes to see what the humans were doing.

The surrounding humans tensed as their comrades came to a stop a few paces away from where I sat, leaning against the largest tree in the small glade.

Neither of them moved, so I waited. Over the years I've learned to be patient. Humans don't attack sleeping men. It would be dishonorable. If I waited long enough, they would start to talk, and I'd be given an idea of what they wanted from me.

The male cleared his throat. It wasn't enough to wake me. I resisted the urge to make snoring noises.

The male nudged me with the point of his shoe and leaped back. Maybe they didn't know who I was after all. Even at my slowest I could have graciously removed the offending limb, saving the poor fool having to leap back so fearfully, and I could have done so before either of the humans realized I was awake.

I opened my eyes, annoyed. If they were planning on poking and nudging me until they had my attention, I might as well "wake up" now. Besides, if they hadn't attacked yet they probably didn't know I wasn't human, and weren't going to charge unless provoked. I figure I look human enough even without my ears covered. Gosh darn kids these days wearing gold colored contacts, funny lookin' headbands with ears on them, dying their hair silvery white, filing their nails to look like claws...Yeah, that's me, a fucking kid.

"Um...Sorry, did we wake you?" The woman said loudly. She had brilliant, thick red hair that flowed past her shoulders and was wearing a form fitting black and green jumpsuit branded with the letter X. Girls and their trendy designer clothes. The male was wearing a similar jumpsuit only in blue with yellow accents. I'll never understand fashion.

I cocked my head to the side. She spoke as though I was hard of hearing or stupid.

The woman smiled prettily but I could tell it was forced. She was frightened. The smile remained frozen on her pretty face for a moment or two and became a frown when I didn't respond. The male tried next.

"We're sorry to bother you, but we happened to be looking for someone..." He let the statement hang for a moment, letting me turn it over in my head. The human failed to realize that if the person wasn't me, I could care less. I closed my eyes, feigning sleep again.

"We don't know his name exactly," the male continued, "but he matches your description perfectly."

What was I doing yesterday that would cause a group of humans to go looking for me? Nothing, I shrugged and settled back further against the tree.

"He murdered a group of children yesterday afternoon and countless others." He added, raising his voice as though I actually fallen asleep in the few seconds it took for him to continue. Just what was this fool implying? I opened my eyes. The male and female regarded me steadily.

"Are you accusing me of somethin'?" I asked slowly, feeling my temper flare.

"No, of course not." The woman interjected, attempting to placate me. "We were just wondering if you knew anything about it."

I scowled at the stupidity of her statement. Why in the hell would I care about the affairs of humans? So what if there was a child killer out there, if I went and caught him there would only be another crazy bastard to take his place the next day. These humans breed like rats and more than half of them are sick in the damn head.

"We understand that sometimes things can get out of control, but that doesn't excuse what happened. We want to help." She looked at me knowingly, as though we shared a common secret. Fuck if I know what that secret is. Fuck if I care!

Out of habit I sniffed the air, testing it for the scent of this alleged Killer. If he was truly in the area I'd sense him, but there was no one but myself and the humans surrounding me.

Wait.

I checked again. That scent...

It was different than normal humans. It was the same filthy scent tweaked with something I'd never detected on anyone before…

I didn't like it.

I growled, annoyed that they were sucking me into their trivial human problems. I hoped the feral sound would frighten them into leaving me alone. Instead, the woman flinched and the boy nervously touched the tips of his fingers to the rose colored visor he wore across his eyes.

"Don't make any sudden moves!" He commanded dramatically, as though I looked ready to rip off a low hanging tree branch and come running at them, shrieking like a maniac. "Let's cut the pretenses, we know it was you. Come quietly and you won't get hurt." The shock I felt at his blunt accusation must have registered on my face, because for a second they both looked apprehensive.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." I replied slowly. If I could convince them of my innocence they would leave me alone.

The man would have none of it. "Don't deny it. The description fits you perfectly, and trust me there aren't a lot of silver haired kids running around these parts. Accident or not, you're coming with us. We can do this the easy way or the hard way." Again I must have looked surprised because the idiot added, "And trust me, you _don't_ wanna do this the hard way."

I stood, the surprise fading away only to be replaced by anger. I have not and will not kill humans. Man, woman, child, it matters not. I don't kill humans. I sent a disgusted look at the couple and stood slowly, angrily. This was bullshit. They were not the police and therefore I had no need to be nice and explain myself, and I sure as hell wasn't going anywhere they wanted to take me.

On my feet, furious and glaring, I began to pushing past them when the man lowered his glasses to the bridge of his nose. A bright red light blared in warning.

I stopped mid stride. _He _was threatening _me! _I was so busy trying not to kill the fool on the spot I didn't realize the others were closing the circle until the only things in the center were the tree I had been leaning against, the two humans, and myself. I noticed all were wearing the same designer as the red head and her male companion. How cute.

"Do not threaten me, human." I growled menacingly, "I'll kill you if you give me reason to." I caught the mistake too late. It was obviously the wrong thing to say—now they'd think their assumptions were correct. Inwardly I cursed my inability to filter myself when angered.

"You're out numbered. Come quietly. We know you're a mutant too." The woman said gently. The bitch was still trying to placate me! Wait, mutant? I didn't understand. I looked at them curiously and the two glanced at each other.

Unfortunately for them, they looked away a moment too long. Nimbly, I jumped over their heads only to find myself being slammed back down to the ground by a surprisingly strong punch to the face. From the forest floor I looked up at my attacker, then at those that joined us in the clearing. This one was older than the others, who all looked to be in their mid teens. The gruff looking man was obviously more experienced in battle than the rest.

I picked myself up off the ground and started to jump with the full intention of using my demonic speed to get me the hell out of there, but my feet were stuck. Fuck, _all_ of me was stuck! I looked around without moving my head.

I tried to move my body again but was paralyzed. Everything felt like it was in working order but for some inexplicable reason could not move. It was as though there were invisible bonds holding me down. What was this sorcery!?

"What the fuck have you done to me?!" I growled, trying to find the sorcerer among the ordinary humans.

The male looked amused, "Like Jean said you're not the only mutant here."

The red head bitch? She was staring intensely, but she wasn't chanting any incantations, nor was she using any kind of magical object. This was beyond me.

I fumed, irate at my inability to understand. "Again with this 'mutant' shit; I am not this 'mutant' thing now get the fuck off!!" The red head relaxed her gaze slightly and looked at her male counterpart, obviously looking for some sort of direction. Immediately her hold on my body faded, and I stumbled forward surprised at regaining movement so suddenly. Regarding these strange humans in a new light while still tempted to flee, I again regretted my decision to stay despite having plenty of time to do so since detecting their presence in these woods.

Now what? Running was apparently not an option, as the red head would merely immobilize me again; instead I stood, waiting for them to make the next move.

**-Rogue**-

The Killer stumbled, looking surprised after being released by Jeans psychic hold. I tensed myself for another escape attempt but he just stood there, waiting. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. He really was fast, just as the reports had indicated, but I was still unprepared when faced with the reality of the situation. I'd barely realized the Killer was getting away until he was already in the air sailing over our heads. I didn't even try to stop him, just stared in awe. We were lucky Logan intercepted him mid-leap.

Up close his face was flawless and his amber eyes stood out against the black wife beater and red baggy sweat pants he was wearing. His long hair, though tangled and knotted, was an extraordinary silvery white color, and the cute little ears made the scowl marring his features cute and comical.

It was a bit scary—this guy was probably about as cute as a hungry, rabid dog. Whatever, now we know how fast he is. Logan won't be the only one slamming him face first into the ground if he tries that shit again.

No one made a move. I think Scott was trying to figure out what to do with him, especially since the Killer didn't seem to understand that he was a mutant. We hadn't anticipated this. The whole world knew about mutants, how did this guy miss the memo? I edged forward slightly, and noticed an ear twitch towards my general direction.

It was then I noticed how well the Killer guarded himself. He didn't look like he was doing much of anything, but you could see he was ready for a fight. The boy stood with his hands—no claws—at his sides, shoulders tense, feet slightly bent, shoulder width apart. His eyes where alert and constantly darting back and forth between us. His ears twitched toward every sound made. Logan might have surprised him but he wasn't going to be caught off guard again.

I guess that means he's chosen the hard way.

"You can't get away, just come quietly. We just wanna talk." Scott was speaking again, taking charge of the situation, as usual. "We're all in the same boat here. I'm sure you've heard of us—we're the guys from the news. We're going to take you to a school that'll teach you to control—"

"You will not come any closer," the Killer snarled his voice growing in intensity as Scott took a step towards him. "I will not hesitate to kill you, and you're not taking me anywhere." The Killer took a threatening step forward, matching Scott's advance.

"Hey! There's no need to—"Another step. "Hey!" Scott's fingers twitched towards the dial controlling the intensity of his ocular beams.

"And I have no interest in speaking with you or your _filthy_ wench!" And a third.

"Don't you _dare_!" Scott shouted, cranking up the dial on the side of his visor. The Killer was thrown back as Scotts' optic blast hit him square in the chest, obviously taking him by surprise. He crashed with a sickening crunch into the tree behind him, but I never saw him fall. With a growl he was at Scott's throat before I could even blink.

"Scott!" Jean exclaimed.

We sprang into action. Kitty dove into the ground and reappeared at Scott's side, grabbing his leg and making him transparent, causing the Killer to sail through him. If the Killer was surprised he didn't show it. He merely shifted his weight, landed steadily on two feet and lunged again, this time away from the group, looking to escape now that he'd broken out of the center of the pack.

Jean used a blast of telekinesis to stop the Killers retreat and throw him back into the tree, hoping to stun him long enough to restrain him. Agilely he turned around mid air and used the tree as a springboard to launch himself back at Jean who was saved by Nightcrawler when he quickly teleported her to safety.

The Killer didn't falter. He landed on his feet, cat like, and swiftly took a step to change direction and threw himself at the next closest person.

Shit! Me!

I stumbled backwards falling flat on my back as he slashed with his claws, surprised at the incredible speed of his assault. My embarrassment was quelled at the feeling of air rush past my face from the swipe of his claws and his body sailing clear over my head. His attack missed by a few centimeters.

I peeled off a glove as I scrambled to my feet and reached out to touch the Killers flesh, hoping to at the very least steal some of his strength for a fair fight, but he was already kicking at my knees, forcing me to jump back out of his range to avoid a shattered patella.

Seeing that his strike would miss, the Killer used the foot he'd kicked with to step, closing the distance between us instead, and threw a left hook, than a right cross. The blows kept on coming, varying in strength and speed, and I kept blocking—barely. My arms screamed in agony from the force of his punches.

Bobby sent a blast of ice at the Killers feet, hoping to hold him in place long enough for me to touch him. His attack was easily dodged, but it gave me enough time to gain my bearings and take off my remaining glove.

I swung my fist as hard as I could, knowing the Killer would block, but hoping he'd use his skin as a shield. Instead he caught my arm just above where my sleeve started.

I gasped as I was spun around to face my team. Clothing on skin, crap, I couldn't knock him out like this.

With a wrist in each hand, and my arms pinned across my chest by the Killers iron grip, that _monster _used my body to shield himself from attacks, which ceased immediately. Smart little fucker.

I ducked my head forward, thrusting my butt into his groin and forcing his upper body and head forwards. Then, after a quick glance backwards to be sure of where my target was, I threw my head back, slamming the Killer with the back of my head, aiming for his face.

My aim was true, my vision swam and my brain danced around my head. It didn't matter, frantically I stomped on his feet using my boots to scrape the insides of his legs and grind his toes to pulp. I thrashed violently; trying to get the bastard to loosen his grip, but the Killer took the blows unflinchingly, and tightened his grip until it hurt to move.

My ears rang. I should not be the only one in pain here. My blows should have at least gotten the Killer to loosen his grip enough for me to escape. Instead I only injured myself. Now I was a hostage with a concussion. For fucks sake.

I could feel his hot breath on my neck as he hissed, "Tell your allies to back off or you die." Stubbornly, I clenched my jaw. He growled low in his throat, a truly terrifying sound that sent shivers down my spine. I would have spit in his face if I could.

I felt myself being spun a quarter turn and dragged through the air at the same time. The Killers back was now protected by the tree he'd been sleeping against. I felt the bones in my wrist bending as he tightened his grip, and I whimpered softly from the pain.

"You try a stupid, half assed attack like that again and the girl dies," the Killer yelled. Logan had tried to sneak up on him from behind to save me.

"Shit," I cursed under my breath. This was definitely not going according to plan.

-**Inuyasha**-

"Shit," the girl muttered.

She could say that again. This was getting ridiculous. Escaping without harming anyone was getting to be more difficult by the second. What the fuck where these things? They couldn't possibly be human! They couldn't possibly all be sorcerers and have spiritual powers! And why were they after me?

What is this shit!?

Every time I let my gaze stray from the humans attacking me to look for a way out, one of the damn brats would cast a new spell, and I'd have to deal with that instead. If only there weren't so many of them.

I leaned closer to her ear intending to command the woman to tell her friends to leave me the fuck alone, but before I could speak she leaned her head towards me as though swooning. My lips caressed her smooth cheek.

"Wha…" I felt my thoughts and feelings draining away as a sharp pain ran through my entire body, starting at where my lips touched her skin. I tried to pull away from the source of pain, but couldn't.

A wave of panic coursed through my body. My vision blurred then went dark.


	2. chapter 2

Here's the new second chapter. Thanks to everyone who's still sticking with the story and to all the new fans too. I know it's been taking a lot longer than anticipated but I'm lighting a figurative fire under my ass and picking up the pace.

Again, comments/questions/concerns/life lessons and any other reviews would be very much appreciated.

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CHAPTER 2

-**Rogue**-

I felt hands roughly shaking me.

I heard myself screaming as I woke. The sound was surreal, sounding as though it came from far away...

Hands were grabbing at me and I yelled louder, kicking at them, trying to get away.

Someone was yelling something over and over again. Who's gone rogue? A hand slapped my face—pain and another, more masculine yell.

Something heavy fell over my chest, and for a moment I was Bobby Drake, age 16. There was a flash of myself rocketing upwards, creating a massive column of ice beneath me as I soared into the air. I hovered in the sky a few seconds as I stopped creating ice, then slid down the smooth, chilly slide I created for myself, yelling happily all the way down. Another flash and I was in a familiar room, in a familiar bed, hovering over a familiar girl. Rogue. She was screaming, writhing, dreaming. I slapped her face, trying to snap her out of a nightmare. The image jerked me into consciousness. I was Rogue. The weight was Bobby.

I looked around fearfully. I was scared—or was that Bobby? Scott and Kurt pulled the unconscious boy off me, and made it as far as the door with him before Hank rushed in. Hank gently took the boy off their hands and carried him down to the infirmary. I looked away guiltily; I hadn't meant to take so much of his life force. He'd be out for awhile.

My cloths clung to my body, damp with perspiration. My blanket was at least a foot away from the bed, but it was only a dream. Thank G-d. I glanced at my roommate, Kitty, who was hovering near me and biting her lip nervously. There were other students in the room, but I looked through them, ignoring their concerned words and gossipy murmurs, trying to organize my thoughts. Wordlessly I started getting out of bed when the small crowd surrounding my bed parted and the Professor and Logan emerged.

The room was instantly quiet.

"What's going on over here?" Logan asked, looking first at me and then at the rest of the students now milling about my room.

I looked from the anxious, bleary eyed faces surrounding my bed to Kitty, hoping she would say something so that I didn't have to. I didn't want to tell everyone I woke them all because of a silly nightmare.

"She was like, screaming." Kitty offered. "It was _really_ freaky." She added as an afterthought. I almost hit her. Thanks for the genius explanation, like they all didn't hear me crying out like a little girl.

"What happened?" the Professor asked.

"Well, I was sleeping and then I heard Rogue..." Kitty trailed off mid sentence when she noticed the Professor looking intently at me.

"It's nothin'. Just a dream, it was stupid..." I muttered, trying to keep myself from blushing.

"What happened?" the Professor asked again, steering himself closer to the bed. I shrugged in response, not really wanting to talk about it. A look from the Professor cleared the room, Kitty included. I knew the drill. I moved to the edge of the bed and the Professor wheeled himself directly in front of me.

"Just relax..." he said, his voice calm and soothing. I did as told. The Professors finger tips nearly brushed my temples. I focused on my dream. It came back to me in flashes.

_The Killer was running as fast as he could. If you blinked it would appear as though he had disappeared and reappeared several feet away. In the distance a tall figure with beautiful, silver hair cascading down his back held a young girl by the throat._

_A small boy lay dead at his feet. An old man and middle aged woman lay dying nearby. The girl was crying silently as she tried to break free of the silver haired mans' grip._

_The Killer unsheathed his sword as he approached, but just as he was prepared to strike, the silver haired man slit the young girl's throat. Just before she died she managed to gasp two words._

_"Inu yasha."_

_The Killer stopped dead in his tracks, his amber eyes open wide in horror. The silver haired man dropped the girl to the floor where she fell in a heap, her blood staining the ground around her._

_"Why?" The Killers voice broke as he spoke. _

_The silver haired man just stared, no emotion showing on his porcelain face, and in the blink of an eye he was gone. He left only the dead and the Killer in his wake_.

The Professor looked slightly drained when we were finished, but I knew he was fine. After working with him as long as I have I knew that probing my mind for a dream was nothing for a man like him.

After a moment Professor Xavier spoke. "I don't think that was a dream, Rogue." I examined my knees. I didn't think it was a dream either.

This wasn't the first time memories have come to me in dreams. The Killer was in it, so I felt safe saying it was his. With the Professors help these "nightmares" happen less frequently, but on occasion I'll get to live a piece of someone else's life at night. My dream was real. That girl, G-d knows how long ago, was murdered.


	3. Chapter 3

The new chapter 3. Again there are some changes made--especially when it comes to the tone of the chapters' end. Feedback would be greatly appreciated.

Enjoy...

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CHAPTER 3

**-Inuyasha**-

I woke with a start at the feel of the soft bed beneath me and shot up to a seated position. What was the last thing I remembered? Groaning softly I clutched at my aching head. I couldn't think. It felt like my brain was being assaulted by battering rams.

I was so focused on my aching head it took me a moment to realize the significance of waking up in a strange bed, and another moment to realize I wasn't alone.

I tensed; looking for my enemy and ready to either defend myself or attack. When I saw the gruff looking man from the clearing and discerned he had no intentions to harm me (yet), my fight/flight reflex subsided and I closed my eyes again, willing my migraine away.

What the hell happened? Those bastards attacked me, then…

My head throbbed. They must have knocked me out and brought me here, I reasoned, but how? Not to brag, but I'm strong. Really strong—at least stronger than a bunch of humans, and yet here I sit. Who the hell are these people?

I massaged my temples, attempting to both quell the pain and stir up the memories of how I got to this place.

"Here."

I reacted before consciously recognizing what I was doing, and caught the water bottle thrown in my direction. The bottles seal was unbroken, but I sniffed the water for chemicals or poison before taking a few sips anyway.

After allowing me a few more swallows the man spoke again. "Listen closely, kid, 'cuz I'm not plannin' on repeatin' myself. This is your room. Don't even try and leave it. This entire place is guarded, so if ya' try and escape we'll catch ya' before you get to the front gates."

I lowered the bottle from my lips and capped it.

"You'll have a guard with you at all times, and smile," the man grinned sardonically and nodded towards the corner opposite the bed, "yer on camera."

I sneered at his insolence.

"And in case yer still having thoughts about escaping, you'll be happy to know we also got two telepaths livin' here." The man smirked as though this were some big accomplishment. "Now come with me," he barked, and started towards the door.

Despite my disapproval I was curious about what was coming next. So I followed him, looking over my shoulder to watch the camera track me across the room to the door. Slow, I noted. I could outrun its movement in my sleep.

My room turned out to be one of the middle rooms in a hallway filled with doors. The scent was distinctly male. Some of the scents I recognized, others were new. This place must be where they keep all their other male prisoners I decided after a few sniffs. The females must be kept elsewhere. I wondered if all the rooms were as nice as mine. Usually prisoners aren't given nice, cozy beds to sleep in.

After walking down two long hallways the man lead me to an elevator. We paused just long enough for him to place his thumb on a finger print scanner, and immediately the door opened. The man stepped aside, waiting for me to enter first.

I hesitated, not liking the looks of it. Once inside I was trapped. Obviously, I could break out fairly easily, but that was assuming they weren't planning on doing something to me in there. A compartment that small would fill up with knock out gas fairly quickly and I wasn't confident I could break out before succumbing to the tainted air.

_Snikt_

Startled, I went to turn towards the noise only to feel three sharp points pricking the back of my neck.

"Inside," The man said, curtly. I hesitated for a split second more, wondering if the risk of injury was worth me disobeying.

On the one hand, if the elevator was just a means of transportation to get me out of here, it definitely wasn't. On the other hand, if they were planning on killing me inside that little box of doom, I would be better off trying to fight out here.

The pressure on my neck increased. If he pushed forward hard enough he would probably sever my brain stem and kill me. I wasn't sure what this Fuck was capable of, and therefore wasn't sure if I could sidestep him quick enough to avoid being impaled by his weapons. I stepped into the elevator. The man followed, keeping his knives steady on the base of my neck.

Behind me I heard the doors whoosh closed. We were going down. After a low beep I felt the lift stop, and the doors opened. The man backed out first, pulling me by the back of my shirt to keep me in contact with his weapons.

Once outside the elevator he pushed me down a long hallway with fewer doors but more adornments. I took care to remember the route. Maybe I'd be led past an exit. I may not be in a position to escape now, but knowing the general layout and exits of my prison will definitely be useful later.

And to my astonishment, at the end of the hallway and around the corner, there it was; the main entrance to the entire G-d damn building! And was I fenced in by large metal doors with bars on the windows? Was I guarded by big, strong men with weapons? Was there anything outside of the man behind me to keep me from escaping this very instant?!

No. No. No.

The main entrance was a set of glass double doors. That's all. No protection, no security, no _nothing_. It was miraculous—miraculously stupid on my enemies' part, but miraculous none the less.

I felt the grip on my shirt tighten, the knives broke skin; blood trickled down my neck and back. And I grinned.

The man steered me to the left of the stairs leading outside, keeping us moving along the second floor of the building. The landing, which wrapped around the ground floor (separated only by a banister), possessed two doors; we stopped in front of the second one.

There were many people behind this door. They were expecting me. I readied myself for a fight.

The man knocked, opened the door, and roughly pushed me inside.

-**Kitty**-

A knock on the door warned us that Logan and the Killer had arrived, and then he was inside. I tensed, ready for a fight.

Logan had pushed him inside hard, and he stumbled a bit before regaining his footing. When he caught his footing, the Killer stood defensively, as though he'd known we were all in here and had thought we were all going to jump him as soon as he entered.

When he realized that wasn't the case, he relaxed slightly and looked over the room instead, ears twitching towards the murmurs and whispers his presence caused. At the sight of the Killer relaxing, many of us—myself included—did as well. Logan had warned us the Killer might try for revenge when he saw us all in the same room together. Most of the people here were present for our fight in the forest clearing.

We were in the Professors office, standing (or sitting) against the sparse furniture that decorated the room. There must have been about 10 of us. Only the students that were able to at least defend themselves were allowed at this meeting. Once the Killer settled, the Professor, who'd strategically placed himself directly across from the door, wheeled himself towards our "guest", as he liked to call him.

"Inuyasha," the Killers head snapped up at the sound of his name, "My name is Professor Xavier, and this is my home. Because of your behavior we will be keeping a close eye on you until we deem it safe to release you into the outside world. Do you understand?"

The Killer stared coldly, somehow managing to look both threatening and curious at the same time. "Do you understand?" the Professor repeated.

"How do you know my name?" Inuyasha asked in a dangerously low voice, evading the question.

"Inuyasha," Professor Xavier said pointedly, "I don't think you understand the enormity of this situation. You've been accused of murder. You are here because a normal detention center is not yet able to contain you effectively. We are more than capable. I suggest you answer my questions."

At the word 'murder' the atmosphere of the room changed. Those who'd thought he looked harmless tensed, several of the younger students who hadn't been involved in bringing him in gasped, other murmured nervously to their neighbors.

The Killer seemed to mull over the Professors words for a moment before replying stubbornly, "My behavior isn't any of your concern."

"It is when you are killing innocent people!" Scott shot back hotly, from his spot near the Professor, his eyes glowing red behind his rose colored, quartz glasses.

"I didn't do _anything_ wrong," Inuyasha growled.

"And we are supposed to take your word for it?"

"You people don't know what the fuck you're talking about!"

"We know—"

"Enough," the Professor cut in smoothly. "You claim you're innocent?"

"Yes," replied Inuyasha. He was still looking angrily at Scott, and I could visibly see the hatred in his eyes, but he answered firmly without any hesitation.

"That's fine for now then. Kitty will have first watch, everyone else return to your posts. You may return to your room, Inuyasha."

"Bummer," Tabitha whispered at me as I started for the door.

No kidding. Of course I get to watch him while he's all pissed off and looking for a fight. As Logan and I led the alleged killer back to his room I ran through the list of defenses we'd put up to deal with him, and hoped they would be enough. After roughly shoving the Killer in, Logan left.

"We'll be watching, Half Pint," he called over his shoulder. Logan had been talking to me, but his words were for Inuyasha to hear.

However, the warning seemed to fall on deaf ears. The Killer simply jumped into bed and plopped himself down Indian style, keeping his back against the wall and his face to me.

I looked up at the camera and sighed. Well, here goes.

-**Rogue**-

I paused, shaking all thoughts from my head before opening the door. I was nervous and I didn't want to be. They say people like him, murderers and criminals, can sense fear. It's why they only attack people that are weaker than themselves—like children, I thought angrily.

Kitty sat on the floor of the Killers assigned bedroom watching him patiently. In my humble opinion it was far too extravagant for a Killer to be occupying. If it were up to me he'd be locked up in a far less comfortable manner—but that would come later. For now he got to enjoy being kept in pseudo-luxury.

The Killer lay on his side, his back facing Kitty. For a second I was stupid enough to think he was sleeping. I quickly realized it was an act—it had to be. The less threatening and alert he looked, the sloppier we'd be in guarding him. He was just waiting for one of us to fuck up so he could escape.

As soon as I was in the room and had the door closed behind me, Kitty stood.

"He hasn't eaten a thing since he's got here," she said once I was close enough to hear her whisper. "He like, barely moved this entire time."

I nodded to let her know I understood. The Killer had been here more than a day counting the time he spent unconscious, so though his hunger strike was a little troubling now wasn't the time to discuss it. Kitty looked like she wanted to say more, but I nodded my head towards the Killer and his animal-like ears. No matter how quiet Kitty thought she was being, that Bastard probably heard every word. If he knew we were concerned about his eating habits it only served as reinforcement for the behavior. For now there was nothing we could do but wait till his hunger won out and he ate.

Kitty frowned and patted my shoulder for luck before walking to the door. I watched her leave. Her small smile was the last thing I saw before she closed the door with a small click.

I sat down at the spot Kitty had chosen to sit. I was in view of the camera and staring directly at the Killer. There was nothing left to do but watch and wait. Fortunately shifts were only a few hours long. I occupied myself by studying the back of the strange boys head. His long silver hair spilled out behind him onto the bed and his ears twitched every once in a while, but other than that he didn't move an inch.

It unnerved me. Most people can't go that long sitting so still. They pump their foot, fiddle with their fingers, shift their position, but not this guy. Furthermore why the hell does he look so calm? He's just been taken prisoner. He's not yelling his head off, not trying to escape, not trying to bribe his guards…no other mutant would have reacted like this. I wondered it was because he'd been held captive before. The Fucker was taking this like a pro. I glared at the back of the Killers head, angry at him for not giving me a reason to kick his face in.

This guy was different than any mutant I'd ever seen before. Not only were his "gifts" all out of whack, but when I took his life force...it didn't feel like I was absorbing a mutant. In the past, I've always gained a handful of memories, knowledge, powers, and if my target has any physical deformities, I suck them up too more often than not. With the Killer I got nothing but slightly increased strength. I didn't get the cute ears, or claws or fangs or anything.

I should have been bombarded with the Killers memories and personality, but nothing like that happened. I should have had to struggle to keep control of myself and who I was. I should have felt my head get a little more crowded and feel the others inside me stir in protest.

When I finally broke contact with him at the clearing it was still a relief—absorbing someone's life force is just as painful for me as it is for my victims—but at the end of it all, outside of a few indiscernible flashes, there were no memories and I was still me. I'd felt his life force transfer to me starting from the point of contact, but there were none of the usual side effects. If I hadn't been so surprised I would have wept with joy. You can't imagine how horrible it feels to be kicked out of your own head every time you touch someone.

Unfortunately, none of that proved useful for our investigation. We still know practically nothing about him. I wouldn't have even gotten his name if not for that stray memory the night after our fight, and even that was a guess. Inuyasha could have meant dogshit for all my knowledge. I knew the word definitely wasn't English.

On the bed, the Killer stirred and turned over. I tensed, ready to defend myself, but the Killer didn't move further. Now he lay facing me with his hand, positioned as a fist, supporting his head. His eyes were open now and though the rest of his features seemed blank, they appeared to be studying me intently.

I met his gaze, trying to hide how nervous the staring was making me. His eyes were an amazing color and I couldn't help but notice their unusual hue. They were an intense golden brown (more golden than brown), undeniably beautiful, and like the rest of his face, unreadable.

I might have thought he was mentally impaired if not for the intelligence behind them. His face revealed nothing but despite the inscrutable mask he wore, his eyes remained sharp and missed nothing. It was obvious he'd been constantly assessing everything that's occurred since his capture. That fact made me the most concerned of all.

The kid lying on the bed before me may not be convicted of anything so far, but that was just a technicality. I knew he was a murderer. I could feel it in my gut and see it in the way he looked at us all. Every injustice he's felt we've committed against him would rain down on our heads if he ever got loose. I shuddered; recalling the photos of the corpses from the crime scenes then almost as quickly banished them from my train of thought.

I was distracted and scared and it was going to get me killed. I continued watching the murderous fucker, but didn't meet his eyes again. I regretted thinking they were beautiful. They weren't beautiful at all, they were deadly, and despite it all I was still scared.


	4. chapter 4

Hello all! Sorry about the delay. I just got back from Chile and figuratively ran to the computer to finish fixing up this new version of Trapped ch4. I hope you all like it. There are a lot of major changes as the previous versions had a major amount of mistakes and plot holes. Review and let me know what you think, or if you have any comments or concerns. To those who have already gotten in touch: thank you so much for your patience and comments. Hopefully I've fixed everything you've had questions about.

Enjoy!

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CHAPTER 4

-**Inuyasha**-

Though my eyes were closed and my back was turned, I used my other senses to track the guards change. Pathetic; even with their strange powers I surpassed them all in speed, strength, and skill in battle—yet I remained seated and unmoving. I watched, listened, and learned about my strange human captors, and I didn't escape. For some reason I didn't want to.

My replacement guard entered and I recognized the scent as one from the clearing. I inhaled deeply trying to remember which human in particular it belonged to. Mid-draw it hit me—it was her.

In flashes I remembered taking a teenage girl hostage and using her as a shield to stop the onslaught of attacks from her companions. I remembered leaning in to issue a command, my lips brushing the skin on her cheek, then the intense pain and the inability to push her away, despite knowing she was causing me harm; casting some spell that grasped at my soul and left me weak and faint. I remembered feeling relief as she wrenched herself away from me, and my knees giving out as my vision blurred and darkened.

It was her fault. That human knocked me out with a mere touch. All of the others were able to cast spells without talismans or incantations. That bitch must have used the same kind of sorcery to make her skin toxic. If I were a human it might have killed me. She must be the most powerful of them all.

As the girl settled down I remained silent, keeping my features schooled out of habit. My back was still to her, and that made me uncomfortable all of a sudden. My previous guard was harmless, yammering away nervously as I blatantly ignored her weak attempts at conversation. This one was intelligent and strong, and I didn't like leaving my back unprotected while she was so close. If she could poison me without warning before, she could do it again now, and if I was facing her I might be able to protect myself this time.

I thought about turning, but decided against it. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction. Fuck her, and fuck her witchcraft. I sneered, angry at myself for worrying about a simple human girl. Instead I closed my eyes and, while staying on guard, waited for her to act.

I lasted about 3 minutes.

Then my temper flared and it took the last of my good sense to remain still and keep quiet. The bitch wasn't speaking. It took up until now to realize it, but the other girls talking at least gave me something to pass the time with, and gave me a feeling of normalcy. With her going on (and on, and on) it reminded me of my travels with Kagome, school, and made me feel less like a captive.

I resisted the urge to turn and look at the girl sitting behind me. I wanted to fidget. Her silence was unnerving. The girl didn't even boast about being the one to knock me out. Maybe she didn't realize how great a feat she accomplished?

Finally, I rolled over to face her. I sensed her tense and reveled in the way she shifted uncomfortably under my steady gaze. I smirked, thoroughly enjoying her discomfort.

"What are you starin' at?" The girl spoke with a Southern accent.

My smirk grew into a stupid grin. Her loud, obnoxious, slightly defensive comment sounded like something I would have said back when I was with Kagome.

"And wipe that stupid smile off your face, its annoyin'."

That only made me smile harder. She looked as though she was about to say something else, but decided against it. I quirked an eyebrow in encouragement, wanting the girl to speak, but she refused. In fact, she turned from me, contemptuously, as though she didn't regard me to be deserving of her attention let alone conversation.

My smile was gone. Disbelief took humors place. The girl had only turned her head, but that in itself was an insult. Her actions clearly stated, "You are not worthy of being spoken to. You are not worthy of being looked at. You are not a great enough threat to guard seriously."

I was sorely tempted to use this as my opportunity to escape, and (more importantly) embarrass the girl for allowing it to happen on her watch. Her actions were a blow to my pride, and that in itself made me want to hurt her. It was enough that she easily defeated me, but to insult me in this manner as well was...well, mean. Or stupid. It depended on how skilled a fighter she really was.

When the girl turned to face me again, my face must have belayed my bewildered, dumbfounded thoughts, since her expression instantly changed from disdainful to inquisitive. It was as though she didn't understand why I was so aghast at her behavior.

I reset my features, attempting to look as cold and collected as possible. This bitch was damn near the most confusing human I've met in a very long time. What the hell did she want from me?

"Damn it." I muttered, half in awe and half in exasperation. I rolled onto my back, suddenly tired, and lazily placed my hands behind my head.

"He speaks."

"Yeah, what of it?" I snapped as I whirled back around to face the girl. Immediately I scolded myself; she was making me act like my old self.

I didn't like it; I'm better than that now. I'm not the same foolish half breed that ran around Japan flapping his cheese-pie, and running stupidly into any situation as though immortal.

I rolled back over, waiting for the inevitable clever comeback, but she said nothing. I was surprised to find myself disappointed. I was sure she would have at least cursed me under her breath. Still on my back, I turned my head to study the girl again.

Her lips were pursed. She had something to say. "What?"

I wondered whether sound was being recorded in the room as well. I turned towards the camera. It looked old and probably only played a black and white video feed—I hoped.

The wench started to speak but stopped. "What!?" I snapped, annoyed. "If you got something to say, just say it."

"Forget it, okay? It was nothin'." I glared at the girl, bothered by the fact that she blew me off almost as much as I was bothered by the fact that I cared about what she wanted to say. The set to her jaw told me she wasn't planning on continuing the conversation, the look in her eyes showed pity.

"Keh!" I snorted and turned around to face the wall. I closed my eyes but kept alert. I was wary of her abilities, whatever they may be.

What the hell did she pity me for? It better not be because she thinks I'm prisoner here. She's the one deserving of _my_ pity for what I'm going to do to her next time we get the chance to fight.

I didn't like the girl being near me. Something about her brought out the worst in me; made me immature, angry, and foolish. It might have been the way she spoke, but there was something about her that reminded me of myself, or at least the person I was when Kagome was alive, and that caused me to slip into my old, stupid habits—over-reacting and flapping my tongue included.

I winced at the thought. Kagome...the very name brought the tide of my emotions surging in a completely different direction.

My blood boiled and seethed with hatred at the thought of her death—at what Sesshoumaru did to her.

I could never figure out why Sesshoumaru had taken the time to kill Kagome in the first place. He had so many opportunities to do so in the past, why did he choose that moment after all those years?

If it wasn't for that bastard it would have been perfect. Kagome and I…we would have been happy. The only thing she and I ever wanted was to be together, and Sesshoumaru had to come along and fucking kill it…and her. A snarl escaped my lips. The girl, still silent and seated behind me gasped. Fear permeated her scent.

I ignored her, going back to my thoughts. Over the years I've gone through that day over, and over in my head. Now I did so once more, starting with the moment we left Miroku, Sango, and Shippo by the Bone Eater's well. I should have been able to save her. I should have picked up Sesshoumaru's scent before we jumped. I shouldn't have let her go in first.

But in the end, all thoughts went back to that one damned question:

Why...

Why in Kami's name did Sesshoumaru kill her, and not go after me instead? Why, after killing her, did he run off like a coward, instead of facing me in battle?

Why, after protecting her for all these years, was she stolen from me the moment we knew we could find happiness in each other, and why does my heart continue to ache after all these years?

If I'd known her fate, I wouldn't have chosen to protect her in the first place. I would have run off to find the shards on my own that first day. Fuck her, and her ability to sense the shards. The trouble it would have taken me to find them on my own would have been well worth it if I'd been spared this pain. Why did I have to fall in love with her…

I shuddered, feeling the familiar ache in my chest that went along with any thoughts of that day.

I hated this. Even the good times Kagome and I shared were tarnished by Sesshoumaru's actions. I couldn't take it anymore—I didn't want to think about it ever again. I didn't want to be plagued with the memories of Kagome or that day. I didn't want to be burdened with the guilt of leading her to her death, and being too weak to prevent it. I cursed my human blood—the source of my weakness. I cursed the demon blood as well for the long life span it gave me. I would be forced to live with my failings, bereaved of Kagome for a long time.

The girl was still seated behind me, no doubt watching my every move. I suddenly, passionately hated her too, if only for the fact that she was there. I looked over my shoulder, wishing the girl would shrivel up and die under my withering gaze, and remembered her touch.

At first I had been sure I was dying—I had literally felt my power and energy drained from my body—but afterwards, I was rewarded with my first nightmare-less sleep since Kagome's death. This wretched girl was the answer!

I lunged at her, grabbing her forearms to keep her from pushing me away and using my body to pin hers against the wall she'd been sitting against. The girl cried out, first in surprise and then in pain as I carelessly gripped too hard and was unmindful of my claws. Sheer luck kept them from piercing her skin. She ceased thrashing immediately when she felt their sharpness through her clothes.

I pulled back studying the girl closely, hating myself for finding her beautiful. Short hair framed her face. The few white strands that littered the brown somehow complimented her nicely. Her green eyes glistened with a mixture of fear and confusion at my unexpected attack, and she was panting heavily in an arousing manner.

I sat there an extra moment, wondering how to activate the spell that would painfully lull me into unthinking, nighmare-less bliss, and the girl took that moment to gather her thoughts and struggle.

"Lemmi go!" She shrieked as she tried to break my iron grip on her arms. I suppose she decided slitting her own wrists on my claws was preferable to my close proximity. Fortunately I was already straddling her legs. I ignored her yells for help, and settled more of my weight on her lap to prevent attempted kicks at my groin; the weight of my body pressing against hers was too much for her to do much else at such an awkward angle.

I narrowed my eyes and told the girl to shut the fuck up. I didn't have much time. If her allies were actually watching, they'd be breaking down the door any second. Pushing all thoughts to the back of my mind, readying myself for the pain and enveloping darkness, I closed my eyes and pressed my lips to her cheek.

The girl screamed, begging me not to touch her, but it was too late. There it was again; the G-d awful pain and the paralyzing feeling of my soul being sucked from of my body. Through the agony I tried to time it exactly as before. Just enough contact to knock me out, but not enough to kill me.

The girl was still struggling to free herself. Tears leaked from her eyes, and she cried out in pain as she pushed against me, trying to break contact. I felt my body weakening, and my grip on her arms loosened enough for her to break contact. Through the haze, I saw her gloved hands come to my face and shove violently, severing the connection between us.

Her shove threw me off her lap and onto my back where I lay in a daze, moaning. Instead of fleeing as I expected, the girl remained seated, sobbing and clutching her head as though she feared it would explode into a thousand pieces without her hands holding it together.

I crawled away from her until my back was touching the bed. Why was I still conscious? This wasn't what happened in the forest. My vision swam. Maybe I have the wrong woman?

I groaned; touching the woman left me weak and nauseous, but I was not mistaken. It was the same sensation with a different result. Had I done something wrong? Did the girl do something to make the toxins less potent than before?

As we sat, my nausea abated and the pain in my head—though still there—stopped pounding me cross-eyed. The girl had stopped crying but remained huddled against the wall clutching her head and staring off into space. I studied her carefully. What the hell was going on with these humans?

We sat in silence a few moments, during which I realized that, surprisingly, she had not called for her allies throughout the entire ordeal. What was the meaning of this? Even if she hadn't cried out for help, the cameras should have alerted anyone watching of my abrupt attack on the girl. Did they not care about the girls' safety, or was it that they new I did not mean her harm? Or perhaps the camera was a dud? There was no way for me to know.

Finally, without a word I stood up, turned on my heel, and jumped onto the bed. Well, that was positively idiotic. What I was thinking? Even if my "awesome" plan worked, what was I going to do? Knock myself out then leave myself exposed and vulnerable to my captors…again? Kami knows what they did to me the first time. Even so, it wasn't worth the price of a few moments peace.

I deserved every ounce of pain I received as a result of Kagomes death. How could I think otherwise, I was the one that got her killed.

I rolled over to face the wall and used every ounce of strength I possessed to _not_ think of anything besides the present; my current situation, the activity of the building I was being held captive in, the activities of my captors themselves.

The girl, the one with the poisonous touch, kept to herself the rest of her stay with me. She seemed preoccupied, and not with protecting herself against future, impulsive attacks from myself. In fact I might have strolled out of the room for all the notice she gave me. Furthermore, she seemed completely unafraid despite being easily attacked and overpowered by myself. Her companions left her alone until the end of her shift several hours later.

When there was a knock on the door she simply got up and left, leaving yet another human in her stead. It was another fighter from the clearing: the older, more experienced, gruff looking man—the knife expert.

-**Rogue**-

I looked up from my book to find Jean standing over me. Startled, I slammed the book shut. It had only been some summer reading, _Enders Game _by Orson Scott Card, but I didn't feel comfortable having it open with her standing there.

"Oh, hey, Jean..." I said after a moment, annoyed at her simply for being there. What could she possibly want?

"Hey, Rogue." She replied, walking closer and leaning against the table to see what I was reading. Self-consciously, I hid the novel in my lap. "Logan's calling for an afternoon training session."

"Again? This is the third day in a row!"

"I know. I think he's worried about the Killer escaping. We need to be ready. Can you be downstairs in 30?"

I looked at her pointedly, telling her I knew all that. She spoke to me like I was a five year old, like I needed everything explained to me. I was the one that started "the Panic" in the first place.

I told Jean I'd be ready and left, taking my book and thoughts with me.

It's been several days since the Killers "attack" on me during my first watch, and we were still suffering for it in the form of extra training sessions with Logan. The Killer hasn't spoken to me since. In fact, he's become down right resistant and uncooperative with everyone. There's little eye contact, no communication outside of clipped responses to direct questions, and no more jokes or smiles.

The others are scared of him now because of the change. They think he's biding his time for another attack—there's no doubt in their minds that he really did kill all those kids. Now it's just a matter of proving his guilt.

Unfortunately, I'm no help. Even with the second dose of life I took from the Killer, I have basically nothing; a few more indiscernible flashes and a dose of self pity and anger, but nothing that'll clear or convict the guy.

After he attacked me it took a few minutes for my head to clear. It felt fuzzy, but different from when I normally touch someone. My head wasn't full of his personality, just some stray emotions; anger, hate, self loathing, and self pity. Those emotions must have been strongest within him when he touched me. It took awhile to clear them out, even with the Professors help.

As soon as the Killer backed off the Professor was in my head, letting us know Logan was ready to bust through the door and save me any second, and that everything was fine, and under control. When he sensed what was going on in my head, he set to work calming my thoughts and helping me clear all the extra emotions I stole from the Killer. He's seriously one fucked up guy.

The others came and found me as soon as my shift was over, and I smiled at the memory. Kitty had fussed over me all day, asking what it felt like, whether I was scared, and whether I'd be going back the next day.

It was nice to be fawned over like that.

In my room I found a clean sports bra, sweat pants, tee shirt, socks, and gloves. As I went from drawer to drawer I tossed each item I selected on the bed to put on later. Next I went to the bathroom to wash the make up off my face and brush my hair. I had plenty of time to get down to the danger room so I took my time getting ready, not wanting to be the first one down there.

The key was to get there exactly on time. Too early and Logan would make you run laps to get your blood pumping while waiting for everyone else. Too late and he'll add ten laps to the regular amount everyone else would be running as punishment. You seriously did NOT want to be late to one of Logans training sessions.

While dressing my thoughts returned to the Killer.

During the night, his memories came out the strongest. I have a theory that it's because I'm sleeping and not struggling to keep a lid on the memories and personalities inside of me. They aren't new memories; just bits and pieces of the first nightmare he gave me, so I still don't know anything more about him.

I feel stupid complaining about NOT getting memories. Usually that's a blessing, but in this case it's different. There's something we need to know, something that the Professor can't (or wont) find out with telepathy, so really it's up to me. Lord knows the Killer wont talk about it, especially after we pretty much kidnapped him. Not only that, but if I'm going to be getting the same damn nightmarish memory over and over again, I might as well get some of the usual background info.

Normally, I'll get the memory and see it (and feel it) from the person who lived its' perspective. Since they know the people who are in the memory, I'll know. Since they know the background story, I'll know it too. That's part of the reason why they feel so bad sometimes. If I catch a memory of someone getting their leg broken (like when I touched Cody), I'll know what it's like to have my leg broken too. Not only will I feel that pain, but I'll feel what they're feeling to. Cody was scared about not being able to play football anymore, about not being able to get into college without a scholarship, about having to walk around with crutches, and a hundred other things. I felt all that too—like all of that stuff really was important to me at the time—and in a sense it was, because for that split second I _was_ Cody, and I did just break my leg.

It's really not fun.

In any case, all that extra stuff would be helpful when it comes to the Killer and now of all times, my super weird power chooses to crap out on me. Great.

I looked at my watch, noticing it was time to start heading down. I threw on my sneakers, and headed for the elevator.

All I have when it comes to the Killer and his memory is what I can gather in the after-dream, and the emotions he felt strongest at the time of the memory. The girl said Inuyasha while looking straight at the Killer, therefore Inuyasha is probably his name. That one was proven correct—hurrah for deductive reasoning!

The girl knew the Killers name, therefore they must have at the very least spoken before her death. The Killer felt panic at the sight of her in the grip of that other man, and heartbroken, scared, sad, and angry as she died, all this meaning that at the very least, he knew her well...maybe even loved her? I don't know if she felt the same way, or if either of them knew the tall, silver haired man. All I know is that her death really fucked him up in the head. I could feel it in my chest after the tall, silver haired man left. The girl was dead on the ground surrounded by those other unknown people, and I could feel it...something inside the Killer broke.

Maybe that's what drove him to be the murderer he is today--not that that's an excuse, of course.

Once in the elevator I hit the lowest button available marked SB2—Sub-basement 2. After confirming my identity with a retina scan, palm scan, and security clearance code, the elevator began its descent. Crossing my arms over my chest, I finally pushed the Killer out of my thoughts and began mentally prepping myself for yet another grueling training session.

The elevator stopped and let me out in a cold, metal hallway. Several students were milling around, waiting for Logan to start our session, but when I exited many of them followed me down the hallway where Logan was waiting. I noted those already in the room, then watched as others piled in.

This was odd; more than half of us were here and Logan wasn't making us warm up yet. Also, the Professor was here with us. The Professor doesn't usually supervise our sessions unless he thinks we're about to run a particularly important simulation, or teach us an important lesson. Not only that, but if he does watch, he doesn't usually start off by the main entrance with us, he's usually already positioned in the Control Room.

I looked around to see if anyone else had noticed the oddities. Scott had, and was already brushing past the vast array of students to get to Logan and the Professor. The others simply stood around making eye contact, as though saying, "Yes, this is weird. No, I will not do anything about it. But yes, I will stand here looking around uncomfortably so that you know that I know something isn't right." This was ridiculous.

Keeping conscious of my exposed lower arms, I began pushing my way through the students in Scotts wake, hoping to get an idea of what was going on by eves dropping, only to find Logan casually ignoring Scott.

Finally, after a few moments he turned to the masses and began, "Listen up! We've got a little something different planned for today. Everyone follow Scott up to the Control Room."

For a moment everyone hesitated. "GET A MOVE ON!" Logan bellowed, and suddenly, Scott was at the head of a long procession headed towards the Control Room.

"Single file, people..."

"Keep the line movin'..."

"Kurt, you start teleportin' people up. Start with the Prof..."

Whatever else Logan said, I was out of earshot for, but by the time I got to the Control Room of the Danger Room Logan looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. Kurt must have teleported him up with the last group of students, and due to the lack of space and boredom, chaos reined.

Tabitha was throwing energy balls around the controls while Kurt frantically ported around the room, trying to avoid the mini blasts. Jean was pleading with them both, trying to settle them down and pay attention to Logan, who was red faced and screaming at anyone within earshot to shut their yaps and pay attention or suffer some unknown consequences.

Meanwhile, Sunspot and Magma were moping about how this was all a waste of time, Bobby was trying to surprise Multiple into making copies of himself by leaping out of the crowd from various locations at various intervals, and Berzerker and Scott were arguing about who bumped who on their way to get a spot near a window overlooking the Danger Room itself. With the limited space, the cacophony of sound, thrashing, and disarray, I was ready to lose it.

In part I was worried about accidentally bumping into someone, but mostly I was feeling claustrophobic and wanted the noise and commotion to stop so someone could tell us all what the heck was going on. I found Kitty as I searched for a clear spot in the din.

"What the heck is goin' on!?" I screamed at her over the noise.

"What!??"

"What's happenin!?" I yelled again.

"I can't hear you!?" She screamed, pointing at her ear and shaking her head for clarification.

"Ah said, Wha--"

"QUIIIIEEEEETTTTT!!!"

Everyone in the room instantly shut up. It had been Multiple. Under the direction of Jean he'd split himself so many times it was possible to hear him and his copies above the noise and confusion. His loud bellow finally got the room to shut the fuck up.

"Thank you, Jamie." It was the Professor now, looking slightly amused, yet serious. "Now that we've all settled down, we may begin. As you've all noticed, this isn't a regular training session. We will all be watching a...demonstration of sorts, and I want you all to pay very close attention to everything you are about to see. I expect the utmost respect and quiet for our participants, and any uncouth outbursts will land the impulsive student out of the room and unable to watch. Kurt, no matter what you see do not interfere unless I give you explicit directions to do so, do you understand?"

Kurt gave the affirmative, but didn't look very sure about the commitment he was making. I looked around to see if anyone knew what the Professor was talking about, but they all looked as bewildered as I felt. I met eyes with Kitty and shrugged.

I guess we'll all find out soon, eh?

"Kurt, you may precede. Now, if you will all turn your attention to the Danger Room below..."

There was a rustle of movement as 15 some-odd people turned to look out the thick Control Room windows and into the Danger Room below, and Kurt ported out of the room.

And then it hit me! If we were all up here, and we were supposed to watch some kind of demonstration, the only person not here was...

Yes, I had to be right. The only person not here with us was the Killer, meaning we were about to watch the Killer run a simulation.

Excited by the thought, I voiced the idea to my neighbors, who quickly caught on and passed on the message. Soon the whole room was chattering excitedly about watching the Killer fight.

I tried to look back at where the Professor was sitting with the controls, trying to get a look at what level simulation the Killer would have to survive. "It's level 10."

Startled, I looked up at Scott. He must have read my mind--figuratively. Blushing, I stammered out what might have been a thank you, and quickly looked back out the window. I hadn't even noticed Scott was standing next to me. How embarrassing. I felt a nudge at my left, and turned to Kitty who was grinning at me in a knowing manner. Awesome. I briefly wondered if embarrassment could kill a girl.

"Here we go." Scott said, as Kurt reappeared inside the Control Room, leaving a lone figure in the Danger Room.


	5. Chapter 5

Hey all! I'm finally getting back into the swing of things and updating on a fairly regular basis.

An announcement:

As I'm sure some of you have noticed, I cut down the story, deleting the chapters that haven't been edited. They'll be put back up again once I fixed them up. At this point I've been making so many major changes to the plot/story that half of it didn't even make sense anymore, and the way I figured it's best to take that stuff down so the story doesn't get too confusing then keep the chapters up and have them make no sense.

Either way, as always if you have any questions, comments, concerns, grand revelations, or anything in between, send an email or review.

Enjoy.

* * *

CHAPTER 5

-**Inuyasha**-

The woman regarded me coolly, like I was some kind of insect unworthy of being in her grand presence. Grand indeed, fucking human bitch; I'll outlive her three times over.

I stared back defiantly, wishing she'd drop dead from oxygen deprivation. Being so high and mighty has its disadvantages too—not much good air at the top. She didn't look as though I fazed her, but I didn't care. I knew who and what I was, and I was better, faster, stronger, and smarter than she would ever be, so fuck that bitch.

We spent a good hour staring each other down before I realized something was wrong. The woman kept looking at the door as though expecting something, and every time she heard something the air would shift slightly. I didn't understand the implications, but I could tell this wasn't her normal behavior. She didn't seem jumpy by any stretch of the word, but she was definitely waiting for something...

This was new. Others have been anxious to finish their shift, and antsy from sitting with me for so long, but she seemed like she was waiting for something in particular—and the way the air kept shifting...I didn't understand.

I narrowed my eyes at her, trying to discern what was going on. She met my gaze levelly until she heard footsteps and quickly turned to the door. That's it. There's something not right here. I decided to find out what.

Dramatically, I cracked my knuckles and neck to get her attention and give warning that she was about to answer my questions if I had to beat it out of her. She didn't look worried. The woman watched regally as I hopped off the bed, and I grinned, excited to be moving again. She uncrossed her long legs and stood from the wooden folding chair she'd brought.

"Sit down," she commanded. There was a hint of an accent I couldn't place—African, maybe?

"What's goin' on here? Shit's different than normal," I always reverted to my old way of speaking before a fight.

"I will not say it again, Inuyasha. Sit down."

"Make me," I said, and then lunged.

The woman calmly reached her hands towards me, rolled her eyes into the back of her head, and without warning I was flying through the air back into the bed I'd been laying in. Now in my defense I wasn't even half trying, nor was I ready for a random indoor hurricane, but the sudden, violent gust of wind blowing me ass-backwards caused me to screech so loud I might have busted a vocal chord.

I struggled in vain to keep my wits about me. The winds continued to swell and swirl around my head as I attempted to disentangle myself from blankets and limbs. In the end, furious, I resorted to slashing at the blankets around me in a blind rage, using my claws to shred the material and free myself. This was fucking humiliating.

By the time I'd finally pulled myself together the woman was levitating mid air, wind whipping her white hair around her face, eyes glowing an eerie white, and waiting for me to surrender.

I struggled to keep my footing against the torrential gale. Loose objects rushed around the room shattering on the walls and me without discrimination. I resisted the urge to swat at them before they hit, choosing instead to focus on the woman while allowing random articles to shatter against my head and torso.

The wooden folding chair had been hurling around the room along with the rest of the non heavy materials, and was headed straight for my opponent. I waited for it to hit and momentarily distract the bitch before initiating my counter-attack, but amazingly when it got near, the chair rushed around her and began careening towards myself, missing my head by inches.

"Fuck..." it slipped out due to sheer amazement. I've seen many things in my life but such grand displays of power from a meek looking human woman...I was left speechless. Her level of control was astounding. I spared a glance at the door, wondering if I could make it there before she summoned the winds to pull me back into the room. It was worth a shot.

I feigned a lunge in her direction to confuse the woman then made a sharp right towards the exit. She was one step ahead of me. The air shifted before I was through with my feint. She must have known what I was planning because just as I approached the door red flags in the back of my brain started waving. I heeded my instincts and sidestepped left, dodging a bolt of lightning—that's right, a bolt of fucking lightning!

There was a scorch mark on the door. This was the real shit. Somehow she'd shifted the particles in the air, messed with the pressure, the barometer, and Kami knows what else and struck me with _lightning!_ ...Or at least tried to.

I would have stopped to look at her in awe had she not continued her lightning barrage; seconds before a bolt hit I'd feel the air shift. I'd dodge left or right and feel blistering heat from the bolt as it struck the spot I'd occupied moments before.

The carpet was ruined. The room began to reek.

When I was far enough away from the door, she stopped her assault and commanded me to surrender again.

This wasn't happening.

"...What...are you...?" I asked her, hesitating. "You...can't be human..."

"I have gone by many names; I've been called G-dess, Sorceress, and Thief, but you can call me Storm, the Weather Witch!" She exclaimed proudly, while magicking another gast of wind that nearly blew me off my feet. Well, that explains it; she's a Witch, and a powerful one at that.

I sniffed the air again, but was unable to catch a good whiff of her with all the wind blowing. All the other humans' scents contaminated the room. Maybe they were all practicing witches of varying skill and specialties. Maybe that's what made me think all the humans in the clearing smelled weird.

"I've never met a Witch of your skill before," I informed her, thinking I was paying a compliment. Her expression only belayed confusion at my response. Well fuck her then, don't take my compliment, and with that I raced for the exit.

"Stop!" the Witch called after me, but I was already out the door and half way down the hall. I remembered from my first (and only) excursion that I was on the second floor and needed elevator access to reach the main entrance.

I knew the general direction of the front doors as well as the fact that I needed clearance to use the elevator, so I figured there should be either a stairwell or set of windows nearby. Sure enough, after following the hallway for a few seconds, there they both were. I didn't even bother with the stairs—just went for a window and jumped, shattering the glass easily.

The fall was a good few feet, but it felt like nothing to me; I was already planning my next move. It was a quick sprint to a massive gate that I'd clear easily, but then what? I had no idea where I was, and that wasn't the biggest problem of mine. The Witches will mobilize and track me down. I don't know what they're capable of. I also don't know what lengths they're willing to go to find and catch me. I don't want the public involved—especially not the media. No matter—I'll figure things out as situations arise.

Seconds from hitting the ground fuzzy arms wrapped themselves around my chest and arms, and before I could react the world jolted. My eyes swam, my innards felt like they'd experienced some sort of reverberating concussion, and the shock to my vestibular system left me feeling vertigo. By the time I realized I was somewhere inside I was forced to brace for a much longer fall, and the fuzzy arms were gone.

I took a look around me. I stood alone in a large, circular, metal room. What the fuck had just happened? I felt myself swaying as my head swam. For a second I thought I was going to be sick. I fought the feeling, forcing myself to focus on what crazy-ass fuck situation I was in now.

A shiver went down my spine. The room gave me the creeps. I didn't move. Instead I tried to determine why I felt so uneasy. Looking up revealed faces plastered against a window in the chamber above. Some of the faces I recognized as guards, the others were too young for such responsibility; they were probably around 11 or 12 years old.

The wench that defeated me stood towards the left. I noted her attire; it was the same thing she wore the day in the clearing: a black, tight (...extremely tight) leotard with green accents, black knee high boots, yellow gloves, and belt with a giant X for a buckle.

The others from the clearing also wore familiar outfits while the new ones, for the most part, wore all black. Each and every one of them was plastered with X's—weirdoes.

I thought back to my witch theory, and in my mind it was confirmed. I was captured by a clan of practicing witches that had gone berserk and formed their own cult to educate children in the art of witchcraft. Using their combined strength they bring evil doers (like me, apparently) to justice. And I thought this era was boring?

My eyes were drawn back to the toxic witch. She looked uncomfortable for some reason. When I glanced to her immediate left I understood why. She was standing next to the loquacious brunette, and the girl was _still talking_. She must be the type of human who's afraid that if she stops speaking her brain will stop working—and I use the term "working" loosely.

I growled. This was beyond ridiculous. I was in danger, being gawked at like a caged animal, and instead of doing something about it, I was gawking right back. Maybe I am as stupid as I look.

Wrenching my gaze away from my captors, I instead assessed the danger level of the room. Yes, it gave me bad vibes. Yes, I've learned from experience to always trust my gut. And yes, my gut was telling me to get the fuck out of this place. The problem was I couldn't figure out what was so dangerous about the room, nor could I see anything that looked like an exit.

It seemed as though the only way out was to get to where my captors were and bust through the windows. It also seemed as though whatever was making me jumpy was dormant for the moment; great, no problems then.

Now that I had a plan of action, I at least felt more confident—a mistake. Carelessly, I took a step forward to build the momentum needed to break what I assumed to be thick glass, only to nearly be struck by a laser beam.

The blast just nicked the back of my heel as I leapt away. I landed nearby and was forced to jump again as the room sprang to life. Lasers shot blistering blasts one after the other no matter where I moved, while the floors would randomly give way, giving me split seconds to jump, or fall into a deep abyss.

As I leapt around the room, I twisted mid-air to look at my injured foot, expecting to see a trail of blood gushing behind me, marking my progress like bread crumbs.

What I found was worse—the laser blast had been so intensely hot it cauterized the wound. If I got hit in a vital area by even one of those beams, I was fucked. On the plus side, I wouldn't have to worry about slipping on my own blood as I bounced around like a superball.

After zigzagging around my metal cage for what felt like decades, I reached the opposite end of the room, and stopped. I targeted the guns the lasers were coming from and watched as the three nearest me, in unison, turned their nozzles towards my present location. I tensed, already anticipating the blasts. Risking actual injury by continuing this ridiculous cat and mouse game would be stupid.

The guns spit out their individual lasers as I surged forward. Using my demonic speed, I easily avoided the beams—they had barely left their gun barrels. I leapt from weapon to weapon, using my claws to tear through the metal and wire, destroying them as I passed. A few seconds later, I was back in the center of the room. A moment later, the guns fell to pieces on the floor.

My breathing slightly heavier, I took the opportunity to survey the room again. This wasn't the end. I still felt uneasy.

Then giant, metal tentacles erupted from the floor beneath my feet, engulfing my body, pinning my arms to my sides and my legs together.

Immediately, I began struggling. Using all my strength I brought my left claw to a tentacle and sliced through it, freeing my right side. Now, less restricted, I began slashing and tearing at the rest of my bonds. Before I could free myself fully another set consumed me.

Again, I set about freeing myself, cursing angrily at my new predicament. This time, just as I painstakingly managed to reach one of the metal vines, an electric charge was activated.

I cried out in surprise and then pain when the electric pulse became stronger. My arm dropped back to its side, away from the metal it had been ready to rip through. My restraints tightened, my body screamed in protest. My brain turned off, and I blacked out momentarily.

When I came to, my body felt on fire, I couldn't move any part of me though I'd gone ridged, and my lip was bleeding from where I'd accidentally bitten through it. I yelled to focus my body and my mind on moving.

Using every ounce of concentration to keep my brain pinpointed on its current task, I reached with my left hand towards the metallic vines ensnaring the right and tugged hard. They broke easier than expected, but before I could shake off the rest of them, the voltage doubled. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting to stay conscious despite the electric current disrupting voluntary control of my muscles and brain.

I must have blacked out again because when I opened my eyes next, I was screaming and nearly laying on my stomach—the only thing keeping me even remotely upright were the very tentacles restraining me. The amount of them kept me from being able to fall down, as I was obviously unable to do anything but. I remembered screaming in pain several more times, and I'm sure I must have been fading in and out, when suddenly my eyes bled red.

I knew what was coming, and this time when I screamed, I screamed in fear of what was to come, not the pain, which was already a fading to a dull throb as I felt demonic power course through me. The air around me pulsed once, then twice, and with every ounce of strength I had left, I let out a final, primal roar as I used my only free hand to shred the rest of the tentacles, and leap to freedom.

I watched as the floor shifted to a vertical position, becoming walls that sped towards me, intending to crush me to a bloody pulp in the center. The demon blood fueling me allowed me to easily barrel through one of the walls. Though it had enough force to wisp my hair forward over my shoulders, the concussion from the walls booming together didn't faze me enough to cause a forward step or flinch.

I waited for the next attack. There was nothing. I thanked all the G-ds in the heavens, and focused all my attention on cooling my demon blood.

With nothing threatening my life and without completing the full transformation it was still possible so long as I had a few minutes to concentrate. My body knew I didn't want to turn.

I breathed deep, focusing on the changes going on within me, willing the anger and rage away, reminding myself that I was alive and out of harms way, and commanding my body to respond.

Slowly, but surely the demon within me calmed. When I opened my eyes, my vision was clear, and I looked up disdainfully at my captors, knowing they were watching my every move. I wondered if they realized how close they came to knowing death intimately.

I eyed the leader, Xavier, I think he called himself. He gave a curt nod as the older, gruff looking man finished whispering something in his ear. I quirked an ear in their direction but the glass was too thick to catch any of their conversation.

Not that it mattered. I soon figured out what they were talking about. No sooner had they finished speaking Xavier flicked a few switches and the floor gave way, giving me just enough time to catch onto the edge and pull myself back up as it slammed shut.

I smiled; this little game they were playing was over. Not only was the alcove above the only way out, but it contained the bastards pulling the switches—literally in this case. I ran full speed towards the center of the room and hurled myself at the spot where Xavier was sitting, thoroughly demolishing the thick glass.

The younger ones jumped back, shielding themselves from the shards that rained upon them. Several of the older witches ran forward, shielding their faces and eyes with their hands while attempting to rush to their defenseless leaders rescue. I paid them no mind; there was no way they could stop me.

Without even bothering to land, I used a surge of my Youki to change direction mid-air, and went straight for the Professor, only to feel fuzzy arms around my chest and arms.

Now this was familiar. I reached over my head, grabbed the Witches shirt, and pulled hard. I ducked to allow the forwards momentum to send my attacker over my shoulder, and as expected he went tumbling over my head.

Unfortunately, even as the fucker rolled forwards off my back, he managed to grab my wrist, and one nauseating lurch later I found myself back in my original room. I took a look at the witch capable of teleportation.

It was a fuzzy, blue male. Had his scent not been distinctly human I might have thought I was face to face with a demon. He did not look like any of the others and I wondered if his appearance was a product of a spell gone wrong.

The witch let go of my wrist and disappeared in a puff of smoke just as I extended my claws. Disappointed, I looked around the room, noting it was put back in order in my absence. The scorch marks from the weather witches spells remained, but the furniture and other miscellaneous articles were back in their original places. It smelled like a storm—strange.

I headed for the door, wondering if the demonic looking witch would return and force me back. Sure enough just as I touched the knob he returned trailing smoke and holding the hand of the brown haired wench.

Upon seeing where I was and what I was doing, both took threatening steps in my direction. I shrugged and walked away from the door. The blue man left satisfied I wasn't a flight risk; the brunette remained. I didn't even bother picking a fight. She'd magic herself transparent as soon as I drew near, and my efforts would be in vain.

...I suppose deep down I knew that if I really wanted to, I cold maim her before it registered in her pathetic human brain that I'd moved, but I ignored the thought for now, instead choosing to stride over to the bed, and flop down angrily.

What the fuck was that? Did those stupid fuckers set all that up just to fuck with me, or were they actually trying to kill me? If the later was the goal, they've failed in a grandiose manner. If the later was the goal, they must have been barely trying. I wasn't that easy to kill. I leaned my back against the wall and crossed my arms and legs.

Bastards.

They knew what I was—at least I think they did—why else put me through that exercise? They must have been testing me; trying to see how much stress my body could go through before the demon within took over.

That asshole leader of theirs, the Professor Charles Xavier, must be testing my strength, speed…everything. He must be trying to see how far I could be pushed before I'm either dead or turned.

I thought back to how the barrage of attacks stopped almost as soon as my demon blood tried to take over. They gave me a rather long time to gather my wits and calm the monster within before unleashing the next attack, hadn't they.

Fools! I couldn't believe their stupidity. We were all lucky they chose to stop increasing the current and let me escape. They were lucky they decided to wait until I calmed myself before issuing the next attack. One mess up, one too many stressors and we were all fucked; I would lose my soul to my demon half while they would lose their lives to it.

I felt the girls' eyes on me and I lifted mine to meet hers. She wasn't speaking, so that was a plus. Maybe she was afraid now that she'd seen was what I truly was. I dropped her gaze in favor of my injured foot. It was already beginning to heal, and the fact that the wound was cauterized will both help and hurt the process.

On the one hand, I lost barely any blood; the wound was sealed immediately by the same lasers that inflicted the wound in the first place. On the other hand, there may be permanent tissue damage as the cauterization process didn't allow my body to heal the injury naturally; it burnt the tissue instead, causing it to die. All in all my foot will be perfectly healed in a few hours, but there will be scarring—the extent of which I don't know myself.

Additionally, my body ached from the electric shock. It didn't seem as though anything was broken or even fractured, but everything felt…charged. It was weird and painful, but not serious.

The only other actual injuries were obtained when I jumped through the glass window—not the first time, but the second time when escaping from the metal room. Embedded in my skin, clothes, and hair were fragments of glass.

I brushed off my shirt and noticed it was in shreds—my pants were as well. That must have happened when I was being harassed by those fucking high voltage tentacles. At the time I'd been too worried about other things (like losing my soul) to notice.

At first I tried brushing out the shards from the tattered cloth, not wanting to have to lie in glass, but it was hopeless. Attempting to save the clothes would be stupid. It was all destroyed. I yanked the shirt off and tossed it on the floor beside my bed. I missed my fire rat haori.

The pants, though damaged in a similar fashion, I had no choice but to leave on. When standing you would be able to see where the tentacles ensnared me, and my burns would be exposed, but there was nothing I could do about that. In any case, the burns would be gone within hours as well.

I looked up at my guard for the evening (assuming it was evening) to gauge her reaction. She was staring. Unsure of what to do about this, I resumed picking the glass from my chest, arms, and hair.

After a few moments, I heard the girl stand up and move closer. I stopped picking at myself to watch. Though she was pretty much harmless by my standards, I didn't trust her any more than I trusted that bastard, Xavier.

The girl was walking towards me without any indication of stopping. Her arms were up in a placating manner—hands up, palms forward, showing that she had no weapons and meant no harm. I stood, ready to defend myself; like she needs weapons.

When I stood, the girl froze.

She opened her mouth to speak, hesitated, then asked shyly, "Do you...do you like, y'know...need any help with that?"

Was she serious? While I was deciding, the girl continued her slow procession to my bed. I stepped back until my back was protected by the wall. I remained on the bed for the height advantage.

"You think I'd actually let you touch me?" I spat back at her.

The witch had the nerve to look offended at my reaction. "I...I dunno. You looked like you were having a hard time with it. I thought you might like, need some help?"

I paused for a moment, debating.

What the Hell, right?

I shrugged, jumped off the bed, and sat down at its edge. I turned so that she had access to my back and shook out my long mane, spraying shards around the room.

The girl gave out a high pitched squeak as several of the shards flew in her direction. She threw her hands up and turned her head to keep them from hitting her face, but instead of being deflected by her palms, they went straight through her.

When she was sure there were no more headed her way, she dropped her hands and looked at me, anger showing on her child like features.

"Hey! I was just trying to-"

"You wanted to help?"

"Y-yes..."

"So help."

-**Kitty**-

"So help." And with that, he turned his bare back to me, and waited.

Was he serious? I waited a minute and when he didn't move away, I figured he was. I don't know what I was thinking when I offered to help. Inuyasha was hurt and grimacing when poking at his foot—which was totally messed up—and his back and chest and legs were all burnt and his clothes were all ruined and I couldn't help myself. And now he was practically naked and waiting for me to help and...What was I supposed to do?

I shook my head attempting to prepare myself for what I was about to do. He could kill me—I'd literally just seen a display of what he was capable of, and yet that wasn't why I was nervous. It was his nakedness. It was his helplessness. No one else here would help him with anything, and he probably thinks I'm just like the others.

We nearly killed the guy just now and it's our fault he's hurt right now. He's just a teenager. We don't even know if he did anything to deserve this. I know he attacked Rogue, but he didn't try to kill her. He didn't even come close to it. And the Professor said there's something wrong with him on the inside so he's probably just sick. That's what we're here for; to make him better, not treat him like dirt.

So I was partially nervous because he's half naked and I'm supposed to touch him, but the rest was because I was scared he'd take back his offer and not let me show we're good people. Or hurt me accidentally because he doesn't trust me.

As I got near, I saw his shoulders tense. He was ready to strike at me if I made a wrong move. I gulped, anxious about making a mistake.

I stopped directly in front of him, knowing he'd accepted my help to get the shards on his shoulders and back. If I sat on the bed with him, since he'd already turned sideways, I'd easily be able to get them, but sitting with him added to my anxiety. It seemed too...intimate.

I was taking too long to decide what to do. Inuyasha shifted uncomfortably then turned to see what the matter was. He looked horribly confused, so I tentatively stuck my hand out, ready to pick a small shard of glass embedded high up on his left shoulder. As soon as my hand made contact with his skin I turned my head to meet Inuyashas gaze once more.

His eyes were so beautiful...

They pierced me with their unusual color and intensity.

His skin was so warm...

It made me feel like I was on fire.

I felt my face flush. My hand dropped leaving the shard where it was. I stammered out something about taking care of the shards in his back.

His eyes never left me. Even as I climbed up on the bed to get to his back and escape his piercing gaze, Inuyasha maintained eye contact—even turning a little in his seat when I left his rage of vision.

Now seated directly behind him I was still unsure of what to do. The guy just kept staring...

It started freaking me out. I got redder and redder by the second. Soon I would look like a giant tomato; then my head would explode. Why didn't he stop looking at me? Did I have something on my face? I rubbed my nose self consciously.

And it wasn't even just that he was staring at me. He was staring at me with such a strange look on his face. His eyes were all intense and hopeful and...sad.

Then he scoffed, scowled darkly, and turned away from me. After all the staring, I was surprised at the anti-climactic finish. No explanation, no nothing. Now that his back was to me I guessed I should be doing what he'd asked (helping), but I was too freaked out to move. Also, what if he didn't want my help anymore? He did give me a nasty look before turning away...

"Keh!" Inuyasha scoffed again. I twitched at the noise, still unsure of what to do. Inuyasha must have realized I was confused because then, finally, he moved his hair over his shoulders and out of the way, and shrugged. I took that as a "Go ahead, Kitty! And by the way, thanks for your help," and set to work. Maybe I was being too liberal with my interpretations.

There were almost no shards in his back, which makes sense as he practically went head first through the window. I settled for picking them out of his long, silvery-white hair instead. Many of the little shards were stuck in the tangles, but easily removed. Others were lost forever—or at least until he invested in a brush. His hair was in ruins; the whole thing was just one giant birds nest. I couldn't believe he walked around in public like that.

I started from the bottom, but after a few minutes of painful tugging, I gave up and started moving my way up, sticking with only the easily accessible pieces. As I worked on his hair, Inuyasha busied himself with his front half. That was where most of the glass ended up anyway, and he seemed too preoccupied to notice what I was doing.

I shifted my position, sitting up on my knees to reach the top of his head, and got to his ears. Somehow I'd forgotten about those. I carefully worked around them, noticing how they twitched when my hands would accidentally graze them.

When finished, I started on his bangs, picking out the stray glass and then finger combing them smooth. When Inuyasha didn't stop me I started on the rest of his head, starting at the top, before promptly giving up. There was too much for me to do with just fingers—I needed a brush...and a pair of scissors...possibly a blowtorch.

I settled for picking through the easier tangles and massaging his scalp soothingly—at least I hope it was soothingly. The boys' hair was so thick I couldn't tell how my ministrations might feel to him. He was stone still, so taking that as a good sign I continued.

My heart was pounding. I was nervous about being near "the Killer" and how he would react to the things I was doing to him. I didn't want to offend or hurt him. The things I was doing excited me. Parts of my brain were telling me to get away from the guy like, _now_! Other parts dared me to stay.

The more Inuyashas hair de-tangled—at least the area by his scalp—the more my attentions turned more into a full on gentle head scratch. Even as I was doing it I knew that what I was doing was wrong. I thanked G-d no one could see us. I leaned over to get a better sense of Inuyashas feelings about all this.

His eyes were closed, his features relaxed, and his head was lolling slightly. I took that to mean that whatever I was doing was definitely working. Inwardly I hated myself.

What the heck was I doing? There's a huge difference between helping a wounded guy, and giving a scalp massage to someone who possibly killed children, and who definitely attacked one of your best friends. I kept going anyway, scratching by his temples, then base of his neck, the back of his head, and then back to his temples again.

Then, struck by possibly (definitely) the stupidest impulse in the history of ever, I touched them—his ears. And I don't mean graze them accidentally, I mean it was a full on ear grab.

Almost instantly Inuyasha yelped like a dog in pain. Amused at the image paired with his ears I giggled—a huge mistake.

Even as the noise was leaving my lips he blurred, and suddenly Inuyasha was standing up, facing me, and looking really, really angry. I would have phased through the bed had the look on his face not frozen me with fear.

And then, his face went blank, and he calmly asked in a low voice, "Why did you do that?"

I almost wished he yelled.

My mouth opened and closed a few times. I didn't know what to say. I was scared stiff and sure that one wrong word out of my mouth would be the death of me.

"I asked you a question." He took a threatening step forward but again his voice was even and dangerous.

Again I couldn't answer, only stare wide-eyed. His expression turned into one of disgust as he spat, "You _fucking_ _human_! You _dare _touch _me_?"

I recoiled slightly, petrified of what he might do next. I'd gathered my wits about me enough to phase through the bed if need be, but that would leave him alone in the room and unguarded.

The rest of the team was probably still occupied, and Inuyasha could easily escape. I could try phasing through his attacks instead, but that would only work if I'm quick enough to see them coming, and I doubted that was the case.

The Killer took another step towards me. Now his knees were touching the bed and I was sitting with my knees folded under me mere inches away—not a very good position for me to be in if I wanted to leap out of the way of an attack.

I looked around for possible escape routes while I tried to buy myself time. "I-"

"Shut up!" Inuyasha snarled at me. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" He grabbed my wrist, and pulled me towards him. "Do you know who you're dealing with, girl? Do you understand how easy it would be for me to snap your wrist in two?

I might have peed myself a little bit. I wasn't sure what to say or do. The Killer was squeezing my wrist and I felt the bones bow in his iron grip. I whimpered in pain, searching his eyes for the look he was giving me less than an hour before—the look that showed caring and love and hope. All I saw was rage—so much so that his golden eyes almost looked tinted red.

"Please, stop!" I cried out, finally. "I didn't mean anything by it! I'm sorry I didn't mean it, I was just trying to help you!"

And then I realized what was so wrong with this picture.

(a) I'm a mutant too. I could escape just as easily as I could hurt him. I didn't have to take this abuse.

(b) He was the one that let me help him in the first place, and he was the one acting all weird. The jerk didn't look so upset when I was scratching his head like a lap dog!

And (c), what in the heck was he talking about killing me for? So I rubbed his ears, it's not like I tried to hurt him! What's with all the death threats and wrist breaking?! He must be crazy!

So I slapped him. Hard. Across the face.

He looked so shocked his eyes even stopped looking all red.

"Now you listen here," I told him, "_you're_ the one acting all weird. I didn't know your ears were so sensitive so like, how could I know that when I touched them it would hurt you.

"If you like, have a problem with me just tell me; don't threaten me, and don't talk to me like I'm diseased, okay?"

I phased out of his grip then through his torso, and walked over to the fold-up chair Storm had brought for us to sit on. "Now like, if you have something to say, say it nicely or don't say anything to me at all."

And with that I sat down, crossed my arms, and waited for him to apologize.

Inuyasha was totally in the wrong here. An apology should have been the next step. Then I would forgive him and all would be well.

I waited. A series of emotions flickered through his eyes before they returned to their unemotional, cold, regular selves.

I guess Inuyasha didn't agree. I sighed quietly and settled back into the chair. He wasn't going to apologize. He was going to go back to sitting Indian style, ignoring me, and withdraw back into whatever was going inside his head. I was half right.

Inuyasha did go back to ignoring me and sitting Indian style. He also went back to his own thoughts, but not before quietly muttering a soft, simple sorry.

I smiled, forgiving him instantly. There must have been a reason why he flipped out about his ears. We're all sensitive in some shape or form over our mutations. His reaction must have been so extreme because of his insecurities. Inuyasha shouldn't have grabbed at or threatened me, but I shouldn't have touched his ears in the first place.

Lesson learned.

-**Rogue**-

I stared in shock at the video of the Killers performance. The Professor played it once in real time and then again in slow motion. In real time my eyes couldn't follow parts of what happened.

On the screen the Killer had hit a dead end. He turned and his gaze went to the laser guns. Up until that point his features had been blank; he might have been sitting having a cup of coffee instead of running for his life in DR L10.

Only when he hit a dead end did his expression change from blank to serious. His eyes narrowed and his gaze became calculating and intense. That was when he disappeared—or at least it looked like he did at the time.

When we watched the scene on tape I was able to see that the Killer hadn't disappeared at all—he was just moving too fast for my eyes to follow. I could barely see it played in real time, but I caught his blurred form dart by one of the laser guns before he vanished again.

Now that it was being played in slow-mo, I could see exactly what went down. The Killer tensed in slow-mo, before jumping the exact moment the guns fired their blasts. The Killer went from gun to gun at what looked like a super fast sprint, jumping and slashing at each with razor sharp claws as he passed. Final blasts from decimated guns were still streaking across the room as he finished his final strikes.

Then he simply turned and, defying gravity, changed direction mid-air, landing neatly in the center of the room.

"Jesus…" Logan cursed under his breath, his face grim.

"Who the hell is this guy, Professor!?" Scott asked angrily, "It takes all of us working as a team to get through anything on level 10 and this guy does it in his sleep!"

Scott was right. This is insane. How did we ever manage to catch him in the first place? With that kind of speed and strength he could have escaped from the clearing easily. Heck, he could probably leave the mansion and come back ten times over before anyone even noticed he was missing.

Everyone else watching must have had similar sentiments. They whispered amongst themselves nervously. Bobby asked if I thought Logan would be able to stop Inuyasha if he tried to escape. Before I could answer, he asked if the Professor would be able to stop him if Logan failed.

If the Professors mental prowess was being questioned Bobby really must be worried. The Professor was stronger than any mutant I've ever seen. He could even stop the "unstoppable" Juggernaut so long as he wasn't wearing his infamous helmet.

"Quiet down, everyone," the Professor commanded as he fast forwarded a few seconds to where the Killer got his first currant of electricity from the cables.

"This is double the voltage we give you when we put you in the danger room," the Professor informed us. "Even on level 10," he added as Scott opened his mouth to say something.

Normally on a L10 DR session we were given 50,000 volts of electricity and about .5 amps when shocked by anything; same as a standard issue Taser gun used by police officers. Usually whoever gets hit goes down and stays down for a bit, but then are pretty much fine. If it's double the dose it could be enough to kill!

The Killer was screaming. The volume was muted now, but I could still hear him in my head. The Professor and Logan had left the speakers on while the Killer ran the L10 program so they could hear what was going on inside. It was frightening hearing him scream like that. At the time it was hard not to feel bad for him, but it showed how much he could take, and how much stronger he was than we are.

Even at 100,000 volts he was able to fight the pain and free himself from the tentacles.

On the screen the flashes of electricity became brighter, making the Killer look as though he was glowing slightly. This must have been where they increased the current.

The Professor confirmed by announcing, "This is about 100,000 volts and 3 amps." That's more than enough to knock a normal person out for a good long while. Hell, it was enough to kill someone if subjected to the current for too long, and not only did he stay conscious for the most part, but his body was able to handle the current for several minutes!

I could barely believe it.

Neither could anyone else.

I heard several people around me curse. Storm, who'd missed the live performance, looked as shaken as I've ever seen her.

How did I manage to knock him out so easily if he could do all that? If a current that strong didn't put him out, how did my power manage to do it?

"4 amps; 50,000 volts…5 amps; 50,000 volts…" Logan was saying as the Killer on the screen somehow managed to free an arm from the tentacles that ensnared him.

The Killer convulsed and his eyes rolled into the back of his head. His mouth opened in a silent scream and he promptly passed out. At the time the Professor and Logan were ready to stop the current, but then he was awake again. It went on for several minutes. The guy just would not stay down.

Finally, the Killers convulsing, ridged form fell face first. His nervous system was finally short circuiting and he was down for the count. At the time, in the control center, there were many sighs of relief. The guy was human after all.

But then something happened. I'm not sure what, but I felt it, and I think some of the others did too. Something changed in the room, and suddenly the Killer was invincible again. He roared mightily and tore off the rest of his bonds before leaping to freedom.

At the time, inside me something had stirred. It felt kind of like one of the personas inside me was trying to take over. It had happened before, and the fact that it could happen again was a constant factor in my nightmares. I had shuddered, trying to calm whatever was going on within. I didn't recognize the life force. It didn't feel like something I'd absorbed before—it was darker, and angrier, and more violent than anything I've ever experienced.

The Professor flipped a switch and the floor rose vertically to become walls, ready to crush the Killer in their center. Not only did the Killer escape the trap, but he barreled _through_ one of the damn walls to escape without breaking a sweat. Most of us were really freaked at that point. This guy's unstoppable. I was shaking. Something very bad was happening.

We all waited for the Professor to throw something else at him, but that seemed to be the end of it for some reason. When I looked over my shoulder to find out why, the Professor looked deep in thought—weird. Jean was pale and leaning on Scott slightly. Mr. McCoy and Logan looked disturbed as well. I had wondered if they all felt the same thing I was feeling.

That didn't make sense though; the badness was inside of me, how could they feel it too?

I'd ignored the question at the time. The lull in activity gave me a moment to calm myself. I breathed deeply, relying on the techniques the Professor taught me for when I was feeling overwhelmed after using my power. A short while later I was feeling better. When I looked around the room again it seemed like everyone else was back to normal too—at least for the most part.

Now that I had a moment to think it made less sense than before.

Maybe the Professor and Jean had sensed telepathically that one of the personas inside me was trying to get out. Maybe it was a persona that was so big and bad it made them worried, and they had telepathically helped me out. Except if that was the case they wouldn't have been standing around doing nothing. They would have come over and helped me instead of staring at the Killer. That and I would have felt them inside my head.

That leaves only one other option: I wasn't what was worrying everyone. If it wasn't me, it must have been the Killer, and if it was the Killer then maybe everything I felt was triggered by something that happened by the Killer being in trouble.

But that was impossible, wasn't it? My powers have never been triggered by anything outside of me touching someone or a psychic going in my head, and if there was a psychic poking around the Professor would have known about it.

I've absorbed many people before, and once their life force was inside of me, it was inside of me. They didn't seem to have any connection to their original sources after that. The Killer being in danger couldn't have triggered me, it just couldn't have.

I'd have to talk to the Professor about this later, I decided.

The Professor rewound the video and pressed pause as the Killer finished tearing off some electric tentacles.

"Now, who can tell me why I've stopped the tape here," the Professor asked us.

I looked at the screen, trying to figure out what was so important about that moment. I had no idea. I turned to see if anyone had the answer. No one knew.

The Professor continued when the silence persisted. "There is something about this moment that gives us insight into yet another ability of Inuyashas'."

"Wait, he's got another power?" Scott asked, disbelief written on his face.

The Professor answered cryptically, "It seems that way."

"He's so strong…" Jean said.

"What are we gonna do if he tries to escape?" Bobby asked.

"I don't see another power!" Jamie blurted. Others murmured agreements. What other power?

Logan pointed to the Killers arm. It had just been freed from the electrified cables. "There was enough juice to destroy his shirt, but check his arm."

Over a dozen heads craned forward. I still didn't understand.

Then someone cried out, "It's his burns!"

A light bulb went on. Duh! The current was strong enough to destroy parts of his shirt, but not enough to melt the skin off his bones? "He's a healer…" Jean murmured in awe. Frightened whispers were breaking out around the room again.

"This insane, Professor! Just who is this guy?" Scott demanded. He was angry and afraid; we all were.

This guy's a bad person. He kills people, and he's too strong, even for us. I know I'm supposed to believe in the power of team work, and yes, we've been training as a team for a long time, but honestly even all of us together didn't feel like enough right now.

The guy was stronger than pretty much all of us, faster than all of us, and could take more abuse than all of us because of his healing. Honestly, the thing that scared me the most was that I seemed to be the only thing that could take the Killer out quick and easy—assuming I could catch him.

I felt the urge to go up to Scott and touch him somehow. Jean gripped his hand in hers and squeezed gently before releasing him. Now I felt the urge to slap Jean upside the head.

"There is no need to be distressed," said the Professor, quieting the room just by speaking. "If Inuyasha wanted to escape he would have tried it by now. He is strong, but I have faith in my students' abilities."

The Professor told us that if the Killer tried to escape he would sense it, and that he sensed that the Killer wasn't looking to harm anyone now. The Professor repeated his theory about the Killer being confused and unable to control his power.

"Looked like he was plenty in control t'me..." I scoffed, nodding at the monitor. It was still stopped on the Killer struggling with the electric wires.

"Don't worry about it kid," Logan replied. "We took him down once and we'll do it again if we have to. At least now we know what we're up against."

We did take him down fairly easily the first time, but for some reason I didn't think it would be that easy next time. I looked around the room. Most looked fairly reassured by the Professor and Logan's words.

I kept my mouth shut about any further misgivings. For now I was just glad people weren't freaking out anymore.

"Eh...isn't Kitty alone vid de Killer?" The room froze as we all mentally slapped ourselves. How could we have forgotten!?

After the Killers little performance, Kurt ported him back to his room. Storm had straightened it up since she'd blown it into chaos to keep him in check until the DR was ready for him. Kurt had also ported Kitty to keep an eye on him, and after Logan checked on her via video, and the Professor checked on her via telepathy, we went to review what just happened in the War Room.

I'm not really sure why the Professor picked Kitty to watch him, maybe he probed the Killers mind and found he liked her best and was least likely to attack her, maybe he figured she'd be safe because of her phasing abilities, who knows. Either way, we weren't supposed to leave her alone for so long. Something could have happened; what if the Killer realized we weren't watching them?

We all turned to the Professor. "Everything is fine, everyone. They're both fine."

"Uh, Charles, you should see this." The Professor wheeled himself to where Logan was standing, right in front of the video monitor showing the Killers room. Scott and Jean followed suit, followed by everyone else.

I ended up in the back, too short to see over everyone, and too worried about accidentally touching someone to try pushing my way through the crowd. Scott cursed. Whatever they were looking at couldn't be good.

I jumped up and down several times, trying desperately to see before finally asking aloud about what the heck was goin' on.

Kurt was the only one to respond: "Dey're gone…"


	6. Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

* * *

-**Rogue**-

They're gone? What the heck did he mean they're gone?!

"Dey're gone," Kurt repeated. This time there was urgency in his voice.

There was a deafening silence as we waited for someone to say or do something. I pictured the various things the Killer might have done to Kitty before he escaped. Maiming, death, torture, or worse...we'd just seen a huge display of power from the bastard, how could we have been so stupid. Poor Kitty...

Bobby asked if we should check the room. Duh! What the heck were we doing standing around here for!? Several of us made movements for the door.

"No," the Professor responded, "Kitty is safe, and that's all that matters. Kurt, take Logan into the room to check on everything."

Nobody moved.

"Now," the Professor commanded sharply.

Kurt ported next to Logan and placed a hand on his shoulder; a moment later they were gone. I knew the Professor wouldn't lie to us—if he said Kitty was fine then she was fine, but I didn't see the harm in going over there myself. Calmly I headed for the door. Scott and Bobby slowly followed. Eventually the others trickled out behind us. As soon as we were out of sight of the Professor we bolted.

We ran through the various hallways stampeding for the Killers room, Scott and I at the lead. Some paused to take the elevator but most—myself included—ran straight for the stairs; they would be faster. I cursed when we were stopped for clearance before the stairwell doors, but once they opened, I tore through them and up the stairs as fast as my legs could carry me. By the time we reached the second floor my legs and lungs were burning. I looked over at Scott as I ran. He was breathing heavily but showed no signs of stopping. Exhausted but determined to keep up, I kept pace, then pushed passed him.

I was the first to reach the door. Scott, Jean, and Berzerker were behind me a second later. Panting, we pressed our ears to the door, trying to hear what was going on inside. Someone was speaking but it was impossible to tell who through the thick wood. Those behind us complained about not being able to hear and asked what was going on. Scott and Ray hushed them loudly. I pressed my ear hard into the door, willing myself to hear better.

"Let me try!" Jamie was crawling through the crowd on his knees. I didn't move for him. If I couldn't hear anything he sure as heck wouldn't be able to. That didn't deter him one bit, he simply crouched at the door beneath the four of us.

Ray didn't approve. "Jamie, there's no room! Get outta-" The door opened and the five of us crashed to the floor—except it wasn't just the five of us, we were at least 15. Jamie, startled by the fall, multiplied himself. I freaked. There were too many people touching me. If one of them touched me skin to skin... I hated absorbing people unnecessarily. My head's crowded enough as it is! Fortunately I was wearing my uniform. The only skin exposed was on my face. I kicked and flailed, trying to dig myself out of the pile and keep covered at the same time.

"Pull yourself together, Jamie!" Ray yelled angrily from somewhere near me.

"Sorry!!" several Jamies called back, near tears.

"Help!" I called, still struggling in vain to free myself. Crap. I changed tactics and made myself as small as possible. Please just don't let anyone touch me...

"Rogue?" My breath caught in my throat; was that Scott? "Rogue, are you alright?" It was.

"Scott?" I yelled back. Ray was yelling at Jaimie again. Someone was pulling on my foot. Several Jamies vanished, causing me to roll left. My boot came off in the process exposing my foot. Double crap.

I kept rolling in an attempt to get out from under the pile of people and reach the spot I thought Scotts voice was coming from. Finally the fear was ebbing away. All I had to do is keep moving towards Scott and everything would be fine. My momentum stopped. My body froze. I was flying up in the air. I looked around, trying to orient myself and figure out what was going on at the same time. I saw Scott hovering near me and I called his name, trying to let him know where I was. He'd been looking for me, trying to make sure I was alright. He knew how freaked I got when people got too close, but Scott was looking elsewhere. He was looking at Jean.

She must have had enough of the disordered mosh pit Jamie created and used her power to untangle us all. Jamie was the only one left on the ground; once in a stress free environment, he was able to pull himself together rather quickly. Within seconds there was only one Jamie left, sitting dejected on the floor. The rest of us were hovering several feet above the ground thanks to Jean. Gently she set us all down. I followed Scott with my eyes as he immediately went to Jeans' side, thanking her for helping us all out.

A throat cleared. Oh no...Logan, the Killer, Kitty! I pushed Bobby and Ray aside; they'd been picking on Jamie for losing it like that and they were in my way, so they deserved it. I needed to make sure Kitty was alright.

"Logan, Ah..."

As I was speaking I attempted to get a peak of the room over Logans' shoulder, and I was pretty damn surprised at what I saw. It was Kitty and the Killer, each sitting exactly where they should be, each looking rather confused, but otherwise perfectly fine. What the heck? I may not have seen the screen myself, but most of the others had and it was supposed to be empty. They were supposed to be gone.

Logan moved forward, moved me aside, and closed the door behind him. I looked at the others to see if they had just seen the same thing as I had. Most of them were gone. The only ones left were the ones involved in the dog pile. Everyone else must have fled when Logan initially opened the door. Cowards.

"Logan, Ah thought yah said they were gone!"

"I dunno what happened, kid. Must have been a blind spot or somethin'; Charles was right, they're both fine." And just like that he brushed right passed me and went along on his merry way. What the heck?

A blind spot on the camera, that's gotta be a joke? Aren't we supposed to have some of the most high tech security in the world? That's bullshit. That can't be all there was to it...and yet I saw it with my own eyes. Both the Killer and Kitty were totally fine. Maybe it really was a blind spot?

But then why didn't the Professor just say so? Logan was wrong; the Professor didn't say they were both fine. He only said Kitty was. He didn't mention anything about the Killer at all. Why didn't the Professor tell us the Killer was still in his room too? Why did he send Logan to check on them using Kurt, aka the express way? It led us all to infer something was wrong...but did that mean there might have been something wrong, or just that the Professor didn't bother correcting us in our assumptions? All this didn't make sense, and I honestly wasn't sure whether or not to bring up my concerns. If there's one thing I've learned from living here it's that the Professor always has a reason for doing and saying things the way he does, and he always has our best interests at heart.

I ignored the others and stalked off to one of the many rooms used for training, grabbing my boot from Bobby as I strode past. When upset, I found the best thing to do was work out. Right now, with me being angry and all those questions piling up in my head, it was getting hard to focus and the people inside me were starting to get confused and rowdy. Sometimes it was best to just work it all out of my system.

I took the stairs back down to S1 and went straight for my favorite gym room. The room was my favorite because it was where we kept all the MMA equipment: the mats, the gloves (boxing, MMA, and grappling style), the mats, shin guards, head gear, focus mitts, three different sized punching bags, a speed bag, and so much more. There was even a grappling dummy. The room was equipped to train mutants like me—mutants that can't go into peoples heads, or lift things with their minds, or control the weather. It was so that mutants that have only their fists and brains to fight with could get good with both, and since that's all I had more often than not, this gym room was my favorite.

I made my way over to the small boom box that was sitting in the corner of the vast room and popped open the CD compartment. I grinned, the CD I left last time was still in there. I closed my eyes, letting the fast paced music wash over me. I stood, rolling my neck then shoulders to loosen them as I walked to the center of the room. I did a few more quick stretches then began my warm up.

I threw a quick jab, making sure to keep my right hand up to cover my face as I did so, then threw another. At my own pace, in time to the music, I threw a few more jabs. I varied the timing of each punch so that my enemy, when I had one, would find it harder to block and counter my strikes, and so that I wouldn't get into the habit of rhythmically throwing punches. I darted forwards, then back with each quick stroke—in and out of my enemies strike range.

Satisfied, I switched to my strong arm. After a series of crosses, again dancing and varying the timing of my punches, I switched to combinations. Jab. Jab cross. Jab, jab, cross. Jab, cross, cross. Jab, hook, cross. I kept at it, paying attention to the technique of my punches and my footwork. When the pace of my breathing increased I walked over to the punching bag in the corner.

Normally I'd do a few more exercises, some pushup, sit-ups, agility and endurance drills, but this time I just felt like hitting something till I couldn't lift my arms anymore. I put on a pair of the MMA style gloves. They provided wrist support while still enabling me to feel the bag and the punches. I worked hard. I punched hard. I kicked hard. I darted around the bag as it swung from the intensity of my blows, taking personal offense at it's refusal to go down before I did. Every strike I aimed at the Killer. I didn't stop until I imagined him broken and defeated. Tired, sweating, sore, but satisfied, I stripped off the gloves, tossing them aside to the "used" pile.

As good as the Killer was I would train until I was better. As fast as he was I'd work until I was faster. Sure, I didn't have any special powers like the others. Of course, actually being faster and stronger would be impossible, but my training paired with my toxic skin will stop him. The training will get me close and keep me alive; my skin will get me the knock out.

-**Inuyasha**-

What the fuck...?

"Yeah, we just wanted to check in...Make sure you were okay, you know?" the red haired witch was speaking in absurdly loud whispers with my guard. I wasn't sure if they realized I could hear them from the way they huddled on the opposite side of the room sneaking glances at me over their shoulders, but it made me want to slap them both upside the head. The red head walked in after the whole fiasco to placate my confused and slightly alarmed guard.

The girl had just settled in her chair when the gruff looking man and the demonic looking witch magicked themselves in the room, startling the both of us. One looked around the room, then poofed back out. The other looked at me and then the girl before muttering a curse under his breath, and asking if we were alright. Obviously he was talking to the girl. She nodded, asked if her shift was over, and shifted uncomfortably when the man (I should really start making an effort to remember names) ignored her and walked slowly around the room. When he got near the spot the girl and I had our little...confrontation, he stopped, thinking...

The gruff looking man was the only one I met whose powers I didn't know. All of the others had a specific charm or spell they were handy with, but this man seemed only to rely on his fists and blades. The fact that he stopped exactly at the spot where the girl and I were arguing after circling much of that half of the room left me wondering whether his specialty was more suited for non combat situations.

But then after standing there for a few seconds longer he simply turned around to leave. I released a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, and the woman looked at me pointedly. She realized the significance of where the man stood as well, except she was aware of his power and I was not. I didn't like that she had the advantage over me in this situation, even if it was only knowledge based. I watched the man leave, waiting for him to get out of earshot so that I could ask her what he was all about. I turned back towards her as his hand touched the knob, but heard voices from the hall. It sounded like a group of people was crowded around the door.

It was because there was a group of people crowding around the door. When the man swung it backwards to exit, several of the younger witches fell forward. One multiplied into 20 as soon as he hit the floor, causing confusion. Several of the kids buried beneath him cried out at the boy, revealed as Jamie, in anger. Someone with an accent cried out for a Scott to help them. I stood on the bed to get a better view. Several Jamies were picking themselves out of the pile and pulling themselves back together. I looked hard at each copy. They were identical, I marveled. I sniffed the air to try and find the original by scent, but they smelled similar as well—at least from my present location. The illusions this young human made unintentionally were ten times as good as the Kitsune Youjutsu Shippou would spend hours trying to perfect.

The gruff looking man stood there, waiting for order to be restored. He looked preoccupied. I resisted the urge to laugh at the idiocy of it all. Finally, after a good few minutes of desperate scrambling on the witches parts, the red haired woman from the clearing separated herself from the pack, and with a stern look raised an arm. The motion sent the pile flying, leaving only Jamie and several of his illusions on the floor. In the air was Scott, along with a boy I'd never seen before and, surprisingly, the girl with the toxic skin.

I recalled how a woman with an accent was calling for help—specifically from the boy Scott. She didn't seem the type to get flustered easily. I noted the way she looked from Scott to the red haired woman. I also noticed how grateful Scott seemed that it was the red head that had restored order, and how he immediately went to her side once his feet touched the ground. The southern witch did not look as pleased. She made to go into my room, but as soon as she saw me she blanched. With the doorway clear, the gruff looking man left, closing the door shut behind him.

Interesting. The whole mess made my captors seem less than capable of keeping me within their grasp—at least using man power alone. It reaffirmed the notion that my captors were mostly young humans, inexperienced in battle, and not ready for a target such as myself. It showed that they were undisciplined and had a lot of growing up to do before facing me. Unfortunately the girl that defeated me in the clearing was among those kids, and I was surprised to find myself disappointed by that. For some reason I'd thought better of her.

I decided that her taking me down was just a fluke. It was sheer luck on her part that I happened to get close enough for her to touch me, not skill. When I held her against me to deter her companions from attacking in the clearing she was a scared little girl until I got close. It was coincidence that I chose her as a bargaining tool and shield, and had I grabbed any of the others I would never have lost to the inadequate group of fledglings. At the very least, I also learned that I will never be defeated by her again.

Now I know better; I'll never get close enough to her to succumb to her sorcery. After that little display of childish behavior, fear, and unrequited love I was ashamed for putting her on such a high pedestal. I'm a real idiot sometimes.

The two women seemed to be concluding their "quiet" discussion. The red head was apologizing once again for barging in, and advising my guard not to worry.

"Everything is like, Okay, right?" the brunette asked.

"Yes, of course," the red head replied, and finally, after a quick backwards glance she left.

The brunette went back to her simple chair and settled in with a sigh. I remembered my previous question.

"Oy," I called without thinking. It got the girls attention, but I realized too late it probably wasn't the best idea to ask my guard for Intel on one of her own. She couldn't possibly be that stupid.

"What's up?"

Well, she did have a hard time knowing when to keep her mouth shut...I decided to give it a shot and asked about the man who was teleported in the room.

"Kurt or Logan?"

"The one that's _not_ blue."

"Logan." I nodded; I'd remember that name. There was an awkward pause while I tried to think of a way to innocently ask where his powers lay.

"So...like, what about him?" the girl asked.

I shifted uncomfortably. His scent was just as fucked up as the others, so he had to be a witch and, like the others, know at least one spell; I just wasn't sure how to ask which it was. "Nothin'," I replied evasively. I'd figure it out on my own.

"Oh..." She seemed disappointed, "Okay, but like, if you have any questions you could like, totally ask me. I don't mind at all, I..." and off she went. I didn't bother interrupting. I don't think she could stop talking if she tried. Past experiences have shown that any noise will be misconstrued as my continuing the conversation.

I thought back to our little tiff. When she offered to help and I accepted, I was just being obnoxious. I honestly didn't think she'd come over and do anything, especially after she'd just seen me fight and almost turn. Mostly I just wanted to have fun at her expense. I waited as she slowly came over. The dank scent of her fear almost made me cringe. What was she doing, I remember asking myself.

The girl stopped directly in front of me. I could have torn her throat out before the nervous expression left her face. To do so though, would be cheap. A voice in the back of my head nagged me, told me this was a stupid idea and to end this nonsense immediately. I didn't listen to it. Patiently I waited as she reached a hand out towards my shoulder, wondering what she would do, and then she turned her face towards me.

Our eyes met. My breath hitched in my throat.

I hadn't been this close to a woman in a long time. The fearful look in her eyes vanished and her expression softened. It was the exact same expression Kagome would give me when she looked at me. At first I didn't understand what that tender look meant. I only knew how embarrassed it made me, especially when we were close. I'd be carrying her on my back as usual, and when I'd put her down to make camp, she'd linger near me a second longer than we both knew she had too. I'd turn to face her and she'd be looking up at me with those warm brown eyes...

I barely noticed the girl move behind me to the bed. I moved with her, feeling my heart clench as it vividly remembered tender moments.

After I had chosen Kagome, it took everything I had not to kiss her when she was like that. Close, and safe, and happy with me...it was how I wanted her to be for forever. Once I realized the meaning behind that look, that loving look I couldn't have possibly deserved, I'd look forward to those times where we had an excuse to be close. I'd make up reasons to be near her, and take care to do the things that made her happy so that when I'd look over at her she'd have that look in her eyes. The one that told me, 'I love you, Inuyasha,' when she couldn't aloud.

The night I told her she had that look on her face. Kagome had looked up at me with tears in her eyes and tried to speak, but sobbed instead. I could tell by her scent she wasn't angry or sad, but the salty smell of her tears made me beg her to stop crying.

"I can't," she said, "I'm just so _happy_."

So I drew her to me and held her tight while she cried and laughed at the same time. And I buried my face in her neck and hair and drew a deep breath, loving the scent of her. I closed my eyes and inhaled, reminiscing...except the scent was all wrong. It was different, not my Kagome and not entirely human neither.

It was that _bitch_; that stupid fucking bitch guard, nothing more. I turned away from her, immediately disgusted at myself for comparing the two.

What the fuck was wrong with me? I berated myself, calling myself every loathsome, derogatory thing I could think of. What was _wrong_ with me? Kagome was Kagome; there would never be another like her and I couldn't believe I let myself go in front of a complete stranger.

The woman began picking the shards out of my hair and shoulders. Obviously she was either deranged or had no idea what just happened. I wanted to slap her hands away, furious with myself, except suddenly for some reason I didn't really care enough to do so.

I felt drained. Who cares what she did? I wanted to be alone, but that wasn't possible, so I ignored the girl, letting her do as she pleased, while I thoughtlessly picked at some glass shards. Eventually my mind went blank and I relaxed, focusing on the presently soothing ministrations of the girl collecting shards.

Kagome was dead.

Kagome was dead, and hating myself for thinking about her wasn't going to change that. In fact, I _should _think about her; no one else alive will do so as I'm the only one left. Loving and commemorating her is how she lives on, I reasoned. With me around to remember she'd never truly be gone.

I closed my eyes as the girl continued finger combing my hair, massaging my scalp once the knots were out. It felt so _good_. It had been so long since someone took care of me...I just wanted to lie down and go to sleep.

My head lolled. Time passed in a blur as I focused only on the sensations. Something deep within my belly stirred; it just felt so fucking good I couldn't help it. At the time I didn't even think about fighting the pleasurable sensations or the physical reaction it was causing, making my jeans feel tight and constricting. In fact, I reveled in the way her breath caressed my neck, and how she was practically panting as her hands adeptly worked my scalp. I was nearly asleep when she touched them, sending a jolt of ecstasy straight to my nether regions, both surprising and scaring me at the same time.

Instantly I recognized exactly what we'd been doing. Before I even turned around to face her I heard the cunt giggle, enjoying the effect her touch had on me. In a flash I was on my feet and looking down at her angrily. How dare she make a fool of me? I'd kill her!

The look of horror on the bitches face stopped me from doing anything rash. Once again her fearful scent filled my nostrils. I didn't understand this girl. First the embodiment of innocence—blushing furiously at having to be near me, unable to meet my gaze without hiding nervously behind me; I may have been reminiscing, but her Kagome-like, nativity and the natural, trusting, complacent look she gave me was what spurred the comparison in the first place. Then, unexpectedly she was lulling me into a false sense of security, calming and seducing me with her whoreish hands, and now she looked horrified again, and not by me, but by herself. The scent of her embarrassment mixed in with the fear told me it wasn't my wrath that concerned her, but her own behavior. That fact didn't quiet my rage, but it did stop me from promptly killing her.

"Why did you do that?" I asked, my voice calm despite the anger whirling inside me. It was a genuine concern of mine.

Her mouth opened and closed a few times. She looked horrified. The bitch was too frightened to speak and I hated her for being scared of me. It made me want to be less angry with her. I brushed the feeling off and took a step closer.

"I asked you a question." I wasn't if I asked to goad her or because I wanted to know why the fuck she was touching me like that. I was still hard and that fact made me even angrier. Why the _fuck_ had she _fucking_ touched me!?

"You _fucking_ _human,_" I exploded," You _dare _touch _me_?" The girl recoiled, her face twisting in fear. I prayed she'd die from it. I moved closer, allowing myself to tower over her and my face to reflect the disgust I felt. How _dare_ she do this to me? The fury I was feeling was making my body forget the physical reaction it had to her touch.

"I-"

"Shut up!" I screamed at her, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I grabbed the girl by the wrist, and wrenched her towards me so that we were eye to eye. "Do you know who you're dealing with, girl? Do you understand how easy it would be for me to snap your wrist in two?" Something in the back of my head told me I was acting irrationally, like my old self. I didn't care. I watched her, fascinated by the look in her eyes—the way they dilated to allow as much light as possible, the way they darted around looking from my face to my eyes to my hand around her wrist and back again. I hated her so _fucking _much...

It was her fault; she made me compare her to Kagome, she tried to seduce me, she made me...react to her touch, and I hated the bitch for it. And then she slapped me. Hard. Across the face. It knocked the anger right out of me.

"Now you listen here," she told me as I stared, slack jawed, "_you're_ the one acting all weird. I didn't know your ears were so sensitive so like, how could I know that when I touched them it would hurt you.

"If you like, have a problem with me just tell me; don't threaten me, and don't talk to me like I'm diseased, okay?" Then suddenly I was holding air and the girl was behind me, striding angrily back to her seat facing the bed. I turned to look at her. When the girl saw that she had my attention she told me to be nice or not speak at all, and sat down matter-of-factly. What the fuck just happened?

First off, how was I the one in the wrong here, and secondly, how the hell did she get all the way over there? It took me a moment to recall that she was the witch that could make objects transparent. She must have made either herself or me see-through to get out of my grip and behind me. That's one problem solved. Next, why the fuck was I the one in trouble here? She was the one that started touching my ears and playing with my hair. All I wanted was someone to help me pick the shards out of the hard to reach areas, and she...

No, that wasn't it at all. I didn't think she would actually help me. I also didn't stop her when she first started touching me in the first place, nor did I say anything when it escalated into something less than innocent. It was my fault. The girl didn't even know my ears were sensitive like that—she thought I grew angry because she _hurt _me when touching my ears.

When a girl doesn't understand the difference between shouts of pain and pleasure, you know they're innocent in more than one sense of the word. As my body clearly showed anyone that cared enough to look, what she did to me clearly caused pleasure, and that's probably (definitely) why I got so upset.

I sat back down on the bed in my usual position. I knew an apology was in order for over reacting like that, but it was the last thing I wanted to do. I did it anyway before going back to my own thoughts, ignoring the gleeful look she wore right up until Logan and Kurt appeared in the room.

"Heelloooo!?" It was the girl; she had asked me something. I had been too busy ignoring her to notice. When I looked at her she repeated the question. "So, do you like, think Logan and the others knew what happened?" I shrugged. I had no idea. Logan did stop exactly in the spot where I threatened the girls' life. Even if the camera didn't have sound it would have shown how I grabbed her roughly and yelled in her face. However, Logan and Kurt ported in _after_ the potentially disastrous situation had been diffused.

"Yeah, I don't know either. I think they might know we got into a fight, but like, I think they know it wasn't a big deal." Not a big deal? I nearly broke the girls arm! "If they ask I'll tell them that I was helping you with the glass and like, accidentally hurt you, okay?"

She was blushing profusely and refused to meet my gaze. If I didn't know any better she was asking me to cover for her—not that anyone would ever think to ask me what transpired. The girl went on to tell me how it was okay to have sensitive spots and that when hit, certain areas were more painful for her than others. "It's like when I hit my funny bone!" Yeah, not so much.

I tuned in and out. It was high school all over again. Why did humans always think that what they were saying was worth listening to? Why did they always assume someone cared enough to listen? Probably because someone always did care enough to listen.

I never understood the concept of small talk. If it wasn't important, why say it? It's impossible to appreciate anything when you're always trying to think of something to say. Humans really need to learn to relax and appreciate silence.

Kagome did small talk too. I have this theory that Kagome assumed that if we weren't conversing about something we weren't enjoying each other company. The only difference, I suppose, was that back then everything she said seemed absolutely fascinating. Kagome would tell me about school and exams and technology and to a poor, dumb hanyou like me it was all gold.

More often then not it would be Kagome talking to Sango, Miroku, and Shippou. They continued the discussion and kept the flow of conversation going smoothly, so I rarely contributed, but I'd always be listening. I reflected on how much I hated asking questions about anything back then. It made me feel stupid having to admit I didn't know something, and Kagome was just so smart... Whenever I asked about anything it was always in an overly aggressive manner that caused some kind of quarrel between myself and one of the others. Anger was always my first response to anything—a bad habit I suppose. It's not like that now. If the gang could see me now...

However, I'm still not used to being here—in her era, I mean. I'm comfortable here now and I consider it ten times better than mine, but it's still hard for me to consider this home. I know I can never go back to the Sengoku Jidai, but that's where I'm from and where I was supposed to be. Even now after all these years I treat every situation as though I were back. I sniff for possible threats any time I go anywhere; I note exits, entrances, hazards, and people when walking into buildings. I'm still tense and fearful on the night of the new moon. It's ridiculous, I know, but old habits die hard.

All those old habits made me strange, at least to humans. Honestly, it would have been impossible for me to be anything but strange, with me being stranded sans anyone in a new place thousands of years in the future and far from anything I knew. It was almost as bad when I moved to the America. At least now I know what all the fuss was about, I suppose. It made me feel guilty for giving Kagome so much shit when all she wanted to do was go back for a quick shower and nap in her warm, comfy bed.

"...so they should be bringing you food like, really soon. Are you actually gunna eat this time?"

I grunted equivocally. The girl took it as a yes, which suited me just as well as the alternative. She launched into her thoughts on nutrition and cooking.

Although it's been getting difficult to keep track of the days—with nothing to do they've been running together—it's probably been almost a week since my imprisonment with the Witches. I've refused food and water since then, thinking they might be trying to slip me something to make me easier to manage. After today's events that doesn't seem likely, but I'm not willing to take any chances. It'll take a good strong dose for normal meds to work on me, but I am half human and my body should metabolize most drugs same as a full blooded one when I'm given the right amount. Better safe than sorry.

I paused my train of thought; two American mottos in less than an hour? I really am getting used to this place if I'm making their colloquialisms my own.

In any case, though I don't need to eat or drink as often as a human, I will need to do so at some point soon. I was already feeling the effects of my lack of water intake. If I were to become dehydrated I'd either die, or get sick enough to force the Witches to get me some unwanted medical attention. Furthermore, since human food has never tasted the same to me since Kagome, I've taken to my old ways of hunting and eating my meat the normal way: straight off my unlucky victims back.

Unfortunately since a hunting excursion doesn't seem to be a part of my near future I'd have to figure something out soon. In the mean time I'll risk the water, and torture my captives by trading glasses often. Even if they spike one, two, or even three of my beverages, they won't get them all, especially if I "accidentally" spill them after a few sips.

"...and then everyone totally refused to eat them! Like, seriously, how rude is that?" I shrugged. "Okay, maybe you're right," she continued, "but it's not like I meant to give them food poisoning!" I blanched, wondering if I was doing the right thing by not touching my rations. She giggled at my response, then proceeded to explain where she got each of her recipes from.

I sighed softly and settled back into my seat. Either it was the lack of food and water or the girl prattling on and on (and on, and on), but I was getting a headache.

-**Kitty**-

Inuyasha nodded in approval as I told him about my recipes. He seemed glad that I was getting better with my cooking, but shocked when I told him I gave a few of the students' food poisoning once. Since we both settled down after our argument, we were having a pretty nice conversation. He wasn't nearly as bad as the others make him out to be; they're probably being jerks because they're judging him without getting to know him.

We don't _know_ Inuyasha is a killer, we just think he is and the Professor isn't letting him out of his sight till we find out the truth. Unfortunately Inuyasha isn't really making this easy for us, but I think that's just part of his personality. He can't help being who he is. It would be like asking Logan not to be so aggressive all the time. There's a reason why he's codenamed Wolverine.

The more I spoke to him, the more I started believing that he was innocent. We never did have any concrete proof; he was just the mutant that was the closest match to the real murderer. I told myself that I would do whatever I could to help him prove his innocence. I'd talk to the Professor about how nice Inuyasha was, and maybe everyone will be a bit nicer to him.

There was a knock on the door and both Inuyasha and I were already looking at it expectantly when Tabitha walked in to relieve me. She was carrying a magazine—which technically wasn't allowed—and smiling. If I'd thought the Killer was actually dangerous I would have scolded her, but with luck they'll actually end up talking all night like we did all day.

"Everything go Okay?" Tabitha asked, waiting for me to vacate my chair so she could sit down.

"Mhm," I nodded, standing and heading for the door. If I was lucky maybe I could talk to the Professor before bed. "Later, Inuyasha!" I called, waving goodbye before I left. I didn't miss the strange look Tabitha gave me, but I did ignore it. Inuyasha didn't respond. He didn't even look at me. It must have been because Tabitha was there. I left; they both would learn that the other wasn't as bad as they thought. All everyone needed was time to figure things out.


	7. Chapter 7

I realize that I made the change in Logans uniform too early, as my plot in accordance with X-men Evos is nowhere near season three yet, but honestly that neon yellow craziness had to go. As much as I love it for the cartoon/comics, it's silly and impractical in the "real world", so I changed it to the black (leather?) leotard he wears in season 3 for the purposes of this story.

Also, I figured I'd try adding some Japanese to Inus section. He's technically thinking in Japanese anyway, since it's his first language, so let me know what you think about the change. Translations are as follows:

_Sakasagami no Yura –_ Yura of the Hair

_Hinezumi haori –_ Fire Rat Haori

_Hime -_ Princess (literally)

_Koketsu ni irazunba koji wo ezu -_ Literally: If you do not enter the tiger's cave, you will not catch its cub. Basically translates to 'Nothing ventured, nothing gained'.

* * *

CHAPTER 7

**Inuyasha**

The new girl sat down in the newly vacated folding chair, opened her magazine, and proceeded to "guard" me. This one seemed about as old as my other guards, however, she wasn't at the clearing with the rest of them. Every other human in the building I've seen thus far has either been at the clearing and has been my guard, or has not been at the clearing and not been my guard. All those not at the clearing are younger, except this one. To me this indicated she was either uncooperative and disruptive during team missions, or she wasn't experienced enough to go despite her age. I looked her up and down noting the lackadaisical way she sat, the arrogant and slightly flirtatious looks she sent me between articles, and the way she'd thoroughly dismissed my previous guards odd behavior, and decided it was probably both.

The girl noticed me watching her and grinned mischievously. She leaned over the magazine perched in her lap, giving me a full view of her ample cleavage. I growled my disapproval and turned away. The kid was asking for trouble.

When the girl realized I was dead set on ignoring her for the remainder of the night, she sighed, flipped her hair, and went back to her magazine.

I had just made myself comfortable when I heard someone approach the door. I sat up and turned just as Logan entered. He cast a disapproving look at my "guard" and her magazine, then turned to me. I stood, ready to defend myself if need be. Tucked under one of Logans' arms was a fresh pair of clothes which he tossed in my direction. I caught them, and put them aside, not wanting to even look at what he brought me till I was alone...well, as alone as possible.

Logan exhaled pointedly. He seemed exasperated and tired. "Come on, kid, you got a date. Take the clothes with you."

He took a few steps back, giving me ample room to pass him, and waited. Grudgingly I complied. I wasn't sure where they wanted to take me, but I was glad they were letting me walk. The more they let me walk around the compound, the better I'd know it when it came time for me to escape.

Slowly I started towards the door, the fresh clothes in hand. Logan followed closely once I passed. Again I heard the _snikt_ that accompanied the unpleasant, yet familiar feeling of three metal points between my shoulder blades. I stiffened slightly while wondering where the knives had come from this time. The man was wearing a form fitting black leotard, cinched together at the waist by an "X belt" similar to the ones many of the other humans around here wear. It was the same uniform he'd been wearing at the clearing, and I've started to realize the X-paraphernalia only came out around me when some shit was about to go down. The impulse to make a run for it took me, and I tensed, ready to flee when I heard a second _snikt_. Three more knives embedded themselves at the base of my neck, threatening to break skin and sever my brain stem. I continued walking down the semi-familiar hallways to the elevator.

Behind me, Logan tapped on the keys, entering an access code. The metallic doors slid open, and with the six knives at my back, I entered. The doors slid smoothly shut behind us, barely making any noise. The pressure on the base of my neck increased slightly as Logan punched in a few more numbers onto yet another keypad. I turned my head slightly—an attempt to get a glimpse of the code—they would be handy later.

The knives dug in deeper, barely piercing the skin almost before I turned my head. If I'd been wearing a shirt, the blood would have been absorbed by the fabric. Since most of my clothing was in shreds on the floor of my room, I was forced to suffer the overwhelming urge to scratch my back as beads of my blood ran down my spine. I few seconds later and the wound was healed, but the itch remained. I shifted uncomfortably.

Three low beeps later and the doors opened to what must have been a lower basement level. I could hear the hum of machinery as soon as the doors opened, and my nose wrinkled from the smell of disinfectant, cleaning supplies, and recycled air.

I was lead down crisp, clean metal hallways. After a few minutes of walking even I was a bit disoriented, and if not for my scent marking where we'd already been, I probably wouldn't have been able to find my way back to the elevator on my own.

"Stop," Logan growled suddenly. I did, and looked around. We were in the middle of a stretch of hallway, a few feet away from a door. I made a move towards it, thinking that was where I was being led to in the first place, but Logan grabbed my shoulder roughly, keeping me in place. Out of the corner of my eye I saw three blades. They were long and thin, and the brief glance led me to believe they were actually curved daggers, not knives.

I frowned; someone adept at using bladed weapons should know it was idiotic to try and wield six long daggers at once. To hold three per hand, he must be keeping one dagger wedged between each finger of his fist. One strike and all three would be knocked askew, unless the hilts of each were fitted specially to his hand. That may have been the case, but it still seemed odd to me. Logan probably risked cutting himself more than cutting me.

To the right of me a hidden door slid open and my chance to ponder Logan, his daggers, the meaning of life, and anything else flew out the window. With Logan at my back, I turned and stepped cautiously into the room. The last time those fucks put me in a bare metal room, I nearly got fried. I sniffed, trying to get a feeling for the place as I entered, thinking that so long as Logan entered with me, they wouldn't attack, but as soon as I crossed the threshold the wall behind me slammed shut, leaving Logan on the other side.

**Kitty**

I skipped down the steps and up the hall then slowed to a walk just before I got to the Professors door. Logan was just leaving the office and was heading my way, scowling. That wasn't too unusual; Logan was always scowling about something. I greeted him, and he grunted something back, sounding distracted. That wasn't too unusual either; Logan was always distracted about something too.

I knocked on the door, surprised when the Professor actually came to answer it. Normally he'd telepathically or verbally invite us in from his desk. It threw me off guard to have the Professor sitting there in front of me. "Yes, Kitty. What is it?"

Of course Professor X could just read my mind, but he always did us the courtesy of asking why we were there instead.

"Umm, well, it's about Inuyasha... Can we like, sit down or something?"

"I am sitting." I froze, realizing what I had just said. I was about to fly into an apology when the Professor smiled. "Please, come in." He wheeled himself around and back into his office, stopping next to one of the chairs by his desk. After a moment I followed him, slightly dazed. Was that a joke?

"Is something the matter with Inuyasha?" Professor asked once I'd settled into the seat.

"Oh no! It's just that we've had him here for, like, awhile, and I've like, spent a bunch of time with him, right? And like, I was just wondering why exactly he needs so much..." I paused, looking for words that wouldn't offend the Professor or come across as rude, "...extra attention, you know?"

The Professor smiled thinly, knitting his brows together for a moment before replying. "Kitty, Inuyasha is a complicated boy. There is much more to him than you could ever understand. You've seen some of what he's capable of in the Danger Room, am I correct?" He waited for me to nod my agreement before continuing, "Then you should also understand that he has a very...unstable, volatile mind. There is no telling what he will do, with or without provocation. He needs to be handled with care."

"But we don't really know anything about him. You said that you like, can't really go into his mind, right? I'm not saying he's a good guy, but like, he can't be _all_ bad."

"That's what we're trying to figure out, Kitty. From what I've seen, there is something very...dangerous inside of him. No matter what goes on inside that room, no matter how 'normal' he seems, while you're with him, I expect you to treat him as a Red Zone case, do you understand?"

I gaped at him for a second before answering. "You mean you want me to treat him like I would the Juggernaut!" He had to be crazy!

"That is exactly what I mean, Kitty."

"But-"

"If you can't do that I'll have someone else cover your shifts."

Have someone cover my shifts! I blanched at the thought. "I don't want that..." I muttered weakly. "I want to help the others watch him. I want to do my part."

The Professor nodded, knowing that I meant it. "Good," he said, wheeling himself back and away from my chair, politely hinting that our conversation was over, "I'm glad you understand the severity of the situation. Because of his mental instability I want to see you on guard and ready for anything." I walked slowly as he escorted me to the door. "Keep in mind what this mutant is capable of, and I'm sure you'll be fine. He needs your help about as much as you need his," he concluded cryptically.

I opened the door, ready to leave and close it behind me when I realized the Professor was following me out. "Let me know if you have any other concerns." I told him I would, thanked him, and began moving towards my room. I couldn't be the only one here that felt so conflicted about the Killer. Yes, I saw what he did in the DR. Yes, I realized that the Professor wouldn't keep someone here under such harsh conditions for no reason. Yes, I realized that just because he acts nice doesn't mean he actually is nice—but a Red Zone! That means that if Inuyasha made any kind of threat towards me or anyone else on the team, I had full authority to do whatever it takes to stop him. Whatever it takes.

Those are three heavy words.

The door to my shared bedroom was closed and I knocked before phasing in, giving Rogue—assuming she was there—fair warning that I was coming. I caught her as she was rushing towards the door with Kurt.

"What's going on, guys?"

"The Killers bein' moved!" Rogue called, running past me and flinging the door open.

"No way, I was just there! How do you know?"

"Tabitha told Bobby Logan took 'im away in the middle of her shift."

"Where are they taking him?"

"Don't know!" Kurt responded as he ran after Rogue. The door slammed shut behind them.

I phased back through the door, sprinting to catch up. The Professor didn't tell me they were moving the Killer, and I had just spoken with him. I guess he didn't want us to know, but like everything else around here, a secret doesn't stay a secret for long.

**Inuyasha**

I spun towards the door just as it smoothed shut, then froze, expecting violence. When nothing happened I relaxed enough to take in where I was fully. It seemed that I was once again in a bare metal room—this one much smaller than the last, and without the greedy little eyes staring at me through glass. I wondered about the implications of my being here. There was no viewing area like last time, just a mirror covering half of the far wall. There were also no cameras, unlike the rest of the building. Did that mean they weren't watching? I didn't think they trusted me enough to be put anywhere without supervision, but I ignored the lack of a guard for moment.

I didn't sense danger so I took a few tentative steps forward, ready to dodge if anything came hurtling at me. Nothing did. I sniffed and smelled several of the witches, but nothing else. Most of the scents were stale; they had been in the room to secure it, most likely, but not since. Others were fresher, but faint, like they weren't coming from the room at all.

I moved towards the far end of the room, opposite the door, following my nose. In ten steps I was at the mirror. From behind the glass I detected the faint smell of Logan and the Professor. It was a two way mirror, I concluded, hence the lack of cameras. Turning my back on my audience, I took in the room. It was small. I crossed the length of it in ten steps, and I could cross the width in five or six. Other than the mirror, the room was bare. I walked around, inspecting it for any visible weakness. I could probably bust through the metal without too much trouble, though the witches would probably assemble before I got too far. Once I started banging away at the walls they'd pretty much know what I was up to. It didn't seem like a good time to escape, but you never know. I looked at the clothes still in my claws. Did they take me in here to change? I dropped them on the ground by the mirror. Not in front of them, I wouldn't.

As I wandered I kept half a brain on the witches behind the glass. I couldn't hear anything being spoken so I took that to mean the walls were incredibly thick. I wasn't worried though; it was just metal. Nothing a few good swipes of my claws couldn't fix.

After a few minutes of pacing I deemed the room safe and secure. I wasn't under attack, and it was so secure that if I hadn't noticed the door was directly across from the mirror, I wouldn't be able to tell where it was anymore. It looked just like the rest of the walls.

Now bored, I walked over to the mirror, scrunching my nose in disgust at my reflection. I was filthy. Even without my super human sense of smell, the humans guarding me must have noticed by now. It's been days since I'd gotten a decent shower _before_ the witches picked me up, and it had to be a good week already since then. Shaking my head, I tried to remember the last time I'd looked at myself in a mirror. It was a month at least. Since then not much had changed. I don't know what I expected, not much ever changes with me. I was a hell of a lot dirtier, but I was still a 17 year old boy. Maybe 18 now—who the fuck knew anymore?

I combed my fingers through my bangs. Thanks to the brunette bitch, the strands weren't nearly as gnarled as before, but it was still pretty bad. I'd kept from cutting it all these years, despite its inconvenience. When in school I took good care of it—washing, brushing, and then braiding it daily so it wouldn't attract any more unnecessary attention to my odd appearance and behavior.

_Sakasagami no Yura_ would have been proud, I thought, all that stopped about a year ago when I gave up my semi-public life and went back to peace, quiet, and solitude. Still, I never cut it. My _hinezumi haori_ was long gone, along with Tetsusaiga, my mannerisms, and my old way of life, but the hair stayed. I guess as childish as it may seem, keeping my hair reminded me of the past; of the Sengku Jedai, Sango, Miroku, Shippou, and—of course—Kagome. It was the one external thing I couldn't bring myself to part with.

I brought a claw to my head, intent on getting out those last few stubborn knots when I picked up new scents. Speaking of the bitch, I could smell her. Had she been in this room before? I closed my eyes, turning my head from side to side to gauge where it was coming from. My nose, once again, led me to the mirror. She's here to watch the peep show with the rest of those fuckers, I silently fumed. I sniffed again and found more new scents. The fuzzy witch and the girl with toxic skin were there, as well another boy but whose face I couldn't recall, but whose scent I recognized.

What were they doing in there? Fuck, what was I doing in here? It had been at least a quarter of an hour and I was still standing around like a moron, playing _Hime_ in the mirror! No way, this had to be a test of some sort. Just because I didn't know what was going on doesn't mean this shit don't stink.

I slipped an emotionless mask back on and proceeded to untangle the birds nest in my hair. Hopefully unbeknown to my captors, I was not as carefree as I appeared. I was still on guard. I was still ready, and I was waiting for the absurd crap they'd throw my way next.

Patiently I ran my claws through my long mane, picking out the last of the glass and knots for a good 10 minutes before it was relatively smooth. In the mean time, Scott, the red head, and the Weather Witch—Storm—joined the party. Silently I fumed at them, hating them for making me feel, yet again, like a caged animal performing tricks for their sordid amusement.

My appearance made semi-presentable, I had no other reason to be in front of the mirror. Instead I ambled around, trying to look bored and confused and relaxed—what I thought would be the natural state of someone locked in a metal box for a long period of time without explanation. I began walking around the perimeter of the room, no longer feigning boredom, but keeping alert nonetheless. After several slow laps the inadequacy of the small space became vastly apparent. I was getting dizzy, annoyed, and angry. Why hadn't they attacked me yet? Why didn't they just get it over with!

Still walking in circles, I began taking longer steps, speed walking instead of meandering, angry rather than calm. I walked over to the mirror and stopped, blatantly staring at my captors in the next room, straining with all my might to hear what was going on the other side. After a moment I stopped and continued pacing. I think better when moving.

Maybe they put me in here just to rattle me?

If that was the case it was working. Escape was on my mind. All I had to do was barrel down the wall across from the mirror, or even go for the mirror itself and I'd be out of this fucked up metal box.

Maybe they want me to try and escape?

I shook my head as I walked. That couldn't be it. What if I succeeded? If they wanted me to escape they could have just been "accidentally" sloppy while transporting me here. I would have taken full advantage of their "carelessness" and made my escape attempt. Then they would have stopped me, or at least have tried to—assuming that was what they had planned. Either way, that theory didn't make sense. Why would they want me to try and escape? That's just fallacious and stupid.

I growled softly in frustration. In an attempt to calm my fraying nerves I stopped pacing and sat down mid-stride, making a serious effort to remain calm and take things as they came. I took a deep breath in and then released it, telling myself that when something happened, I'd react; I just had to wait patiently till then, but after a few moments I was itching to move again, and lost focus. Patience was never my strong suit.

So I decided, fuck it. If they wouldn't make the first move, I would. As they say, _Koketsu ni irazunba koji wo ezu_, I reasoned, knowing this wasn't necessarily true. Whatever, I didn't want to be in that stupid little room anymore. That should be reason enough to leave.

It was final. As soon as I made the decision to escape my mind cleared. I automatically did a sweep of the room, knowing that its weaknesses were the mirror and door. Since the mirror lead to a room holding the people I was trying to avoid, the logical place to strike was at the door.

I made my way over to where I knew the exit should have been. Now there was no sign of it; there was only bare metal wall. I remembered being directly across from the mirror, towards the left. I was almost certain. I knew better than to second guess myself. That nearly always led to mistakes.

Spinning around on my heel, I briskly walked to the mirror side of the room. I stopped, cracked the knuckles in my strong arm, and lunged at the door as I extended my claws.

"Sankontessou!" I cried out, focusing my energy on slashing the door open in one perfect strike. Inwardly I winced at the offensive noise my claws made as they connected with my metal enclosure, feeling its resistance and knowing right away that I had not broken through. I leapt back a few feet, a few inches from the mirror behind me, and quickly hopped back to survey the damage.

I snarled at the five tiny scratches. Offended by the doors lack of willingness to give, I took a few steps back, giving myself room to strike and let my claws extend once more.

Again I screamed as I let loose two successive strikes at my enclosure. This time I used a considerable amount of my strength. When my first strike connected, I swear I felt the room shake a bit. The second strike, weaker, (yet still forceful enough to tear through skin and bone 100 times over) was just supposed make sure I'd created a gap large enough for me to fit through when escaping. Unfortunately, neither strike did much to scratch the door, let alone penetrate it. Horrified, I stared at the still-standing door. It antagonized me by refusing to submit to my claws. This was the first time in a long time my claws had found something they couldn't bust through, and I'd never found a metal that I couldn't easily tie into a pretzel or shred to confetti. Obviously something must be wrong. I probably wasn't hitting it hard enough.

Backing up until my back touched the mirror, I charged. In one powerful leap I was at the wall, ramming it as hard as I could with my shoulder. I bounced off like a tennis ball, and landed on my feet back where I started. I yelled savagely at the obstinate thing. I sunk my claws into my forearm, drawing blood, seeing red, feeling only obtuse rage.

"Hi..." I growled deeply as I prepared to leap, "...jin..." my voice crescendo-ed as I took to the air and tore the claws out of my forearm, trailing blood, "…KESSOU!" I screamed as I slashed at the wall full force. My claws sank deep into the metal and stayed there, stuck. Immediately I swung my feet up and pulled myself out, bracing my feet against the wall for leverage. I back-flipped through the air to my new official starting point by the mirror. This was ridiculous. How was I still here!

I repeated the maneuver again, this time struck mute with fury and shock that my attack hadn't worked the first time. Again my claws sank into the metal, again no matter how hard I pulled down, they wouldn't tear through the substance, and again I was forced to rip them out of the wall, leaving nothing behind but five small holes where my claws had been.

I tried again and again, each attack growing more savage and desperate then the last. Half the assault consisted of me ramming myself into the wall over, and over again to no avail. When I was too tired to continue pounding my fists, claws, and shoulders into the wall, I retreated back to the mirror to regroup, panting and snarling. I wasn't thinking straight, I was just mindlessly attacking. Something in the back of my mind equated it to my mental state when I was turned, but I kept going, too angry to stop. I looked around wildly for a place to run, feeling panic when I knew there was no where to go.

I crouched down low, as my eyes darted around restlessly. My eyes wide and wild, I snarled as the room closed in around me, getting smaller and smaller. My breaths came out in gasps, and I felt the metal constricting, suffocating me. I couldn't breathe! Suddenly I stood, swinging madly the invisible demons taunting me, restricting me, causing me fear and pain.

The sound of my ragged breathing and snarls filled the room and I prepped myself for a final attack. I'd hold nothing back this time, and I'd be out of this fucking box if it killed me. With a harsh cry, I threw myself at the wall and struck it full force with my shoulder. There was a ripping noise on impact. When I found myself back at the stupid mirror again, I was nursing a dislocated shoulder. To say it hurt was an understatement, but I'd been through worse. The pain instantly cleared my mind and gave me something to focus on. Haggardly I looked around, knowing I was a fucking moron for letting myself get so crazy over nothing. I didn't dwell, however. I had bigger things to worry about, like fixing my shoulder.

Leaning back against the mirror for support, I gripped the wrist of my injured arm with my non injured hand. Grimacing from the pain I lifted the arm up and to my chest, biting back screams. When my wrist was place firmly against my chest I steadied myself against the wall, steadying my nerve and resolve. It felt as though my arm was being torn from it's socket—which was indeed what had happened, but it felt worse than that even—like someone was tearing the limb from my body. I'd done this before once or twice, but that didn't make it pleasant. It would get agonizingly worse before it would get better.

Slowly, painfully, I forced my arm out and away from my body, trying to get it all the way to the other side of the wall, but hoping the damned thing would pop back into place before then. It took three harrowing tries before I heard a pop and felt instant relief. I sank to the ground, sobered by the experience.

The shoulder was still sore, but I was able to move it semi normally without too much pain or trouble. I let my arms flop to my side. I was tired. I needed to rest. Using up all that energy was stupid. Now I'd be weak, injured, and unprepared when those fuckers finally did whatever it was they were going to...do.

And just like that a light bulb went off on my brain. I knew why those fuck-heads had brought be down here. It _was_ so that I could try to escape; so that I'd try and fail. It was to show me that it didn't matter how strong or smart I thought I was, the technology they possessed was better, and if I pushed my luck I'd be locked up in this box—or one just like it—for good. The thought made me sick. I really couldn't get out of here. For the first time since I woke up in the accursed room that's been my cell, I felt like a prisoner—trapped, with no means of escape.

Now there was only one thing to do. As soon as they actually let me out of this room, assuming that ever happened, I needed to do whatever was in my power to get the fuck out of this place, and run as fast and far as I possibly could. It was either that, or be kept in a box like this for the rest of my life. Who the fuck knows what these witches had in store for me, or why they felt I was so dangerous. They had told me repeatedly they were keeping me until they figured out the "truth" about whether or not I'd murdered some innocent children, but why did they even suspect me in the first place? I hadn't really been among humans in awhile now, and when I was it was just to steal some clothing or supplies for myself under the cover of darkness. It's been ages since I've even seen any children.

I stifled a whimper...fuck this shit, I just wanted to go home.

My hand brushed up against fabric. It was the clothes that fuck, Logan, had given me to wear. I didn't understand these people. They try some crazy-ass fucking psychological experiment with me, but first they decently give me some fresh clothing to put on before they make me flip a shit about being trapped in a metal box for Kami knows how long. Why bother? It barely mattered anyway; even if I put on the fresh clothes, they would instantly be contaminated by my filthy self.

As though someone had heard read my thoughts, I felt a few drops of water from above. It was only then I noticed the small nozzle jutting out from the ceiling, directly above the mirror. I stood, trying to get a closer look.

It appeared to be some kind of hose dripping water. I stuck a hand out as a few more drops leaked out, followed by a steady trickle. It was a hose dripping water. Cupping my hand, allowing the water to pool there, I smelled it for traces of poison or drug. It was just water, like from the tap. I tipped the pool, and it drained right onto my clothes. I nudged the pile to the side, wondering what was going on now.

Slowly the trickle became a stream, which turned into a high pressure, wide torrent covering the left half of the room. I looked at the ground where the water struck, making a dull noise. It was then I noticed the small hole on the left hand side of the wall, obviously a drain. The floor must slant slightly in that direction. I felt foolish for not seeing it before.

My curiosity thoroughly quenched, I allowed myself to relax slightly. They'd proven I can't break out of here. I suppose this was the final reason for me being kept here. My shirt was already gone, my feet already bare. I debated whether or not I should remove my torn, filthy pants as well, but decided against it. I stole a glance at the mirror; they were still watching me. After testing the water, (it was hot, not scalding) I slowly eased myself into the stream. The pressure felt nice on my aching, tired body. I stood motionless for a moment, or a few hours—I couldn't tell. I'd lost track of time.

The tension in both my mind and body eased with the hot water. My sudden panic felt so stupid now. I dropped to my haunches, allowing my mind to drift pleasantly. Finally, when I was finished soaking, I began scrubbing my face and body with my fingers, rubbing weeks of dirt and grime away. When I was finished I stood, finally remembering where I was and that I was being watched. I glanced over at the mirror. It and everything else in the room were covered in a layer of fog from the steamy water. I wondered if they could still see. I stayed in the shower while considering the mirror, reluctant to get out of the water. Fortunately my captors where in no rush, or they couldn't see me anymore. Regardless, they left the shower running. Finally after a few more minutes of enjoyment, the hot water and steamy air become bothersome.

I moved over to the dry area of the shower, leaving wet footprints on the clouded floor. When the water remained on, I decided they couldn't see me, and even if they could fuck them, I was changing. I pulled off my pants, and slipped on the clean jeans. They were a little big and sagged precariously low. I used the shirt to wipe the rest of my body and mop up the excessive amount of liquid trapped in my long hair. When I was finished, I walked to the mirror and used the palm of my hand to wipe away a peep hole. I gave a thumbs up sign, hoping they'd understand that I was finished and ready for whatever they had planned next. After a few moments, the water pressure decreased its flow until it became a trickle and stopped.


	8. Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

**-Rogue-**

They were all horrified by the Killers animalistic behavior. Wide eyed and staring, faces showing various mixtures of awe, shock, and confusion, they glued themselves to the two-way mirror. I couldn't blame them. The only ones immune to the Killers savage outburst were the few attempting to fix the damn controls to the shower, and even they had half an eye on what was going on in the next room.

The Killer unleashed another barrage on the adamantium plated wall. He didn't even leave a scratch. After his impressive display in the DR, I was almost surprised that he couldn't bust out. Obviously I was being ridiculous. He couldn't break out—this was _adamantium_. Practically nothing could cut through it, not even the Killers razor sharp claws. His attacks were getting wild. I wondered if the Professor would intervene somehow.

His breaking out wasn't even close to being a concern at this point, but in this state I was worried he'd accidentally hurt himself. I glanced over my shoulder. The Professor looked more interested in overseeing the boys fixing the controls to the shower room than making sure the Killer didn't accidentally maim himself in his frenzied state.

Those that were paying attention were another matter. Kitty and Storm both looked pained. Kitty probably because she hates to see anyone suffering; Storm probably because she too is claustrophobic. I wondered what the Killer would think about everyone being in here just a few feet away, watching him suffer. I doubted he'd appreciate it.

At least now we knew why the Professor insisted upon plating the room with adamantium. It took way too much work and a heck of a lot of time, and only because the controls happened to not be working right did the whole thing seem worth it. If everything had gone right from the start, the Killer wouldn't be having a major panic attack and the walls wouldn't have had to withstand such torment. If anyone had asked me (which they obviously didn't), why put so much effort into securing a shower room; why not plate the room the Killer was being kept in instead? I mean, the process started almost as soon as the Killer was brought here and was finally finished last night. If we'd started before we brought the Killer in, or even changed his room to this one, I'd have understood, but to have this as his permanent adamantium plated shower room...It was beyond weird.

"Shoot," Scott cursed, whacking the machine lightly. He flipped the switch on, peered into the shower room, and waited. Nothing happened. He turned the machine off, and then tried again. Again, nothing. Scott flicked the switch on and off several times in quick succession, then cursed and stepped back so that the Professor and Mr. McCoy could take another whack at it.

Meanwhile, the Killer had stopped his demented rampage against the shower room door. Though no sound permeated the thick metal and glass, I could see his chest rising and falling heavily as he crouched on the floor. He probably wiped himself out. I hoped he'd just sit and wait quietly so we could get the damn thing fixed. Then he could wash up and get the heck outta there without hurting himself anymore. The moron was already bleeding from one arm.

I realized I felt sorry for the fucker, and was slightly disgusted with myself. Why should I feel sorry for him? He's a murderer. He used his mutant power to kill people. He deserved everything bad he got in life.

Still, it was hard to associate the man in the adjacent room to the merciless, cold, cruel killer described to us by Logan and the Professors at all of our briefings. Yes, I felt sorry for him. In the room he looked like a scared little kid lashing out at something that couldn't possibly hurt him. It was sad and pathetic, and the worst part was that I knew deep down he wouldn't be showing this side of himself if he knew we were right next door watching him. I didn't even blame him for being scared. I would be too if I was in his situation. He's finally realized that he really can't get out of here, and he's scared shit-less.

I closed my eyes, imagining myself in the Killers situation, wondering how I'd react, how it would feel to be so terrified...

My heart choked with terror. I stumbled forward, clenching my chest, and gasping.

It hurt so bad...

My eyes watered against my will. I sank to my knees still clutching my heart as it painfully tied itself into bows and knots. Fear wracked my entire body. I heard voices in the distance.

"Please..." I cried out, scared out of my mind both for myself and for her. I sobbed, unable to control myself as fear constricted my lungs and gut, and I doubled over half crying, half shouting.

"Rogue!"

I vaguely recognized my name being called, but that wasn't important right now. Not me, don't help me, save _her_! I tried to call out, to tell them to stay away...

"Rogue..."

It was the Professor. He was in my mind, soothing away the pain, fear, and confusion.

It's going to be alright, Kagome, the Professor's here. He'll save you.

I bolted upright, flushing instantly. I was on the ground and had made a fool of myself by fainting in front of everyone. How embarrassing. "S-sorry," I muttered, trying to stand and move away from the crowd so I could start repressing this horrible moment and make it a long forgotten memory. Mr. McCoy put a large hand on my shoulder, keeping me on the ground.

"It's alright, everyone. Let's give Rogue some space, shall we? That's right, why don't you and Scott get back to fixing the shower controls, Bobby. Kurt, go and fetch us some water. Kitty, keep an eye on Inuyasha for us, will you?" Slowly the crowd dispersed, giving the Beast enough space to check my vitals and make sure I was okay. I wished he'd hurry up with it. This was embarrassing enough as it is. I spared a glance around the room as Mr. McCoy checked my pulse. Everyone seemed to be getting back to what they were doing, grudgingly, except for Storm, who was watching my check up in a matronly way, and the Professor. He remained where he was as well, lost in thought.

Mr. McCoy made sure my pupils weren't dilated, then smiled. "You're all set, Ro-"

Kittys piercing scream drowned out the rest of my name, startled the Professor out of his daze, and frightened the rest of us out of our skin.

"Jeeez, Kitty!" Bobby yelled back, holding his chest, for dramatic affect.

Kitty didn't move from her spot at the two-way mirror. Her hand was over her mouth, shock written all over her face. She merely pointed into the next room. I stood up to look. Everyone else crowded around. The Killers shoulder hung out of his socket, leaving his arm to hang limp and useless in a grotesque manner. Kurt _bamf_ed back in with my water, took one look inside the room, and ported back out. Several others turned away as well. Dazed, I watched as he took a step or two backwards towards us and the mirror. He leaned himself back, took a few deep breaths, and slowly bent his hand at the elbow, and gingerly, painfully forced it towards his chest.

I don't know how he stood the pain, how he didn't collapse or stop, nor how he had the resolve to do it three times before the shoulder visibly clicked back home to its normal position. There was a collective sigh in the room as we all released the breath we didn't know we were holding. The Killer sank down the mirror onto the floor.

We turned out attention back to the controls, and this time, when Scott tried them, they worked as though there had been nothing wrong with them in the first place. Soon, there was a steady stream flowing. Looking slightly dazed, the Killer stood, and after a few uncertain glances towards the mirror, he eased himself into the water. Logan had made it hot enough to steam over the mirror, both to soothe the Killers wounded shoulder and to give him a little bit of privacy. After a few minutes, nothing was visible but blurry shapes and fog.

With nothing more to see, we busied ourselves preparing for the next task. Those uninvolved were asked to leave. Logan stood silently, watching the mirror and brooding about who knows what. The Professor sat quietly looking distracted. I kind of wanted to ask the Professor what had happened back there, but decided it was best to keep it to myself. He was in my head, he knew what I saw and felt. I'd be able to figure it out without bothering him.

I found it strange that the scene was triggered by my trying to put myself in the Killers shoes. That had never happened before with anyone else I'd absorbed. Briefly, I wondered whether the feelings could have actually been my own, but that was impossible. I couldn't have forced myself to have a panic attack and faint like that all by myself. Besides, I called out to save Kagome – though hopefully not aloud. My heart wanted someone, anyone to save her so badly... I saw her face so clearly in my head. The way she dangled from that _fucking_bastards filthy claws...

And then I realized who Kagome was. She was Inuyashas girl - the one from the dream. The one the silver haired man killed. I gagged, picturing the girl bleeding to death with her throat torn out. I hadn't realized I didn't know her. Now her name came with a face and a heart wrenching feeling of love (or pain, or both), like I've known her for years. I nearly burst into tears at the realization that she was gone. I had to remind myself that she wasn't real - at least not to me. I've never met the girl. Maybe that's what the Professor was so deep in thought about...

I cleared my throat, attracting his attention, along with several others nearby. "Um...Ah just wanted to say…about before," I paused, asking implicitly whether they understood what 'before' I was referencing. The Professor nodded, "Ah...he loved her. That's why he was so sad when she died. Her name was Kagome."

"Yes, Rogue. I felt it too."

"Do yah think maybe that's what drove him to...do what he did?"

"It's possible..." The Professor answered, already distracted again.

"Are ya gonna probe his maind, then?"

"We'll see how he's feeling after his shower."

I was about to ask why he was waiting for the Killers permission to poke around in his head, when there was movement by the mirror. A small section of steam was smeared away. A thumbs up appeared in the gap. "He's finished," Logan affirmed. "I'll go get him and meet yah upstairs, Charles."

My heart immediately began pounding. The Professor wheeled himself over the controls and flicked them off, then we followed Logan out of the room and into the hall.

-**Inuyasha**-

The doors slid open revealing the vague impression of Logan, obscured by warm steam. The knives were between his knuckles. For a second I thought I smelled his blood. In his arms were a towel and another shirt. They must have forgotten to give me one when they first brought me into that death trap. I had used the shirt to dry off and was wearing the slightly over-sized jeans.

A mad impulse led me to dart forward, kill the man at the door and escape, but I checked myself. No killing; just be patient. As I approached he tossed over both items. I caught them and tucked the shirt between my legs while toweling off and soaking up the excessive amount of liquid trapped in my excessive amount of hair.

I dumped the towel and finished dressing.

I exited first. As soon as I was within arms reach, his knife tips were at my back. With Logan telling me where to go I was led back to the elevator and up two beeps. The elevator let us out by the grand staircase. When I moved to get out of the elevator, Logan grabbed my shoulder and dug his blade in deeper, piercing my skin. It seems he really enjoys doing that. "Don't try anythin' stupid, Bub," he growled in my ear.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, fuck him. Slowly, with Logan leading the way, we bore left towards the room I was questioned in my first day. The Professor and the girl were inside waiting for me. I could smell them. She was frightened, he was calm.

The room was an office - most likely Xaviers. Books lined the walls and a massive mahogany desk was one of the few accessories it contained. Without all the kids inside it looked severe and under-furnished. The Professor and the girl stood in front of the desk, obviously waiting for me. How nice.

Logan kept a tight grip on me, even while in the room. I guess he didn't trust me. Too bad, the room had plenty of windows and I was ready to get the fuck out of there. I was moved to the middle of the room, directly in front of Xavier and the girl but well out of arms reach. I understood why, Logan was the only one with any sort of control over me. The girl could only hurt me if she touched me skin on skin, and the Professor - a cripple - didn't stand a chance. Pun not intended.

"I suppose you know why you've been brought here, Inuyasha."

I still don't know how they found out my true name. I haven't heard it in years. I didn't answer. Last time talking it out didn't go so well. Despite asserting my innocence I was just sent back to my room. I hadn't realized that they might actually have the strength to keep me here - even if the strength was only in the reinforced walls of their shower facility. The time for talking it out is over. Now I just had to wait. Soon I'd escape and be out of this nightmare.

"We'd appreciate it if you cooperated." The Professor said after a pause, "We've been more than hospitable to someone of your...reputation. All we want is to clear the air, so to speak. When you were first brought here you claimed to be innocent of all charges, we'd like to hear your side of the story."

Oh, is that right, I smirked. They thought they were being hospitable? Logan sank his blades deeper into my back. "Yah think this is funny, kid?" I grimaced, wondering if I could break his grip before he could impale me. "This 'aint lookin' good for yah. Now, why don't you answer the nice mans questions."

I squirmed. Blood trickled down my back, ruining my new clothes. Again. I was starting to really hate this guy.

"Logan is right, this is no laughing matter. We've clothed you, provided a moderately comfortable place to stay, meals, and have been as gentle as possible in your treatment here, when we could have simply sent you to a special facility - somewhere less...friendly to our kind."

Our kind? I resisted the urge to sigh, knowing I was making a mistake by letting my curiosity get the best of me. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"We weren't the only ones looking for you. The only reason you're still with us is because we managed to track you down first, and because it's well known that we are more than capable when dealing with someone of your...caliber."

That wasn't what I meant. I changed gears, "How do you know my name?"

"If you'd like, I can show you."

I hesitated. That sounded like a loaded invitation. "What do you mean," I asked slowly.

The Professor wheeled himself closer. Logan, the girl, and I watched his progress. He stopped a few feet away. Logan tightened his grip.

"Relax, Inuyasha. I won't hurt you." I nearly smiled, that was the last thing I was worried about from this guy. "Just close your eyes and I'll show you..."

I felt my eyes closing.

"Relax..."

I was relaxing. I didn't feel the knife tips anymore.

"Relax your mind..."

The Professors voice sounded so soothing.

"Relax..."

I was floating in it. It almost sounded like it was coming from inside...

I panicked. It was coming from inside of me! I tensed, immediately losing the breezy, soothing sensation at the feeling of Logan slamming his blades into my back and through my shoulder as I lunged forward, furious at myself for involuntarily letting my guard down and at the Professor for using his magic to force himself into my mind.

I was thrown sideways, surprised by how strong Logan actually was and by the blow itself. Logan had his weapons at my temple before I regained my footing, and for the first time I realized where those three knives were coming from. Out of the corner of my eye, they looked as though they were embedded in his knuckles. Slowly, I turned my head to see. The blades were actually protruding from between each knuckle. I frowned, in awe of the human for withstanding such pain, and for surgically implanting weapons into his fists... but then why hadn't I seen them the first time I had fought the man in the clearing? Maybe I finally found where his powers lay.

"Inuyasha, I am a telepath," the Professor was saying. "I am able to go inside peoples minds-"

"I didn't give you permission to go inside mine!" I snapped.

"I understand, I just want you to realize with whom you are dealing."

"Fuck you!" I spat.

The Professor paused. He looked a little pale. "If you're unwilling to cooperate, that's your decision to make, however, we will keep you until I am positive of your innocence."

"So basically until you find who really did it or until I let you fuck around inside my head."

Xavier pursed his lips but said nothing. I glared at him, holding his cool gaze. "You're excused if you have nothing more to say." I had nothing more to say.

-**Rogue-**

"So," I asked after a few moments of silence, "did yah see anythaing?"

"No..." The Professor answered. He sounded distracted. I waited for him to say something more or to excuse me so I could go, but he remained lost in thought.

I didn't understand why the Professor didn't just go into the Killers head. It wasn't that big of a deal. He's forced his way into people's minds before.

"Were you able to pick up on anything new?"

"No, Ah'm sorry Professor, Ah tried."

"That's alright, if anything new comes to you, you know how to find me. If you'll excuse me, I'd like to speak to Logan in privacy."

"Alraight, Ah'll see yah in the mornin'."

The door opened and Logan walked in. He held the door and closed it gently behind me when I left. I glanced at my watch. It was late. I was hoping to wake up early and work out a little before my shift guarding the Killer, but I had a feeling I'd have a hard time finding sleep tonight, especially since all I had to look forward to were more of the Killers nightmares.

I couldn't him out of my head, literally. Not only was the memory of him panicking in the shower room stuck playing over and over again in my mind, but that feeling... any time the Killer is in some sort of trouble, I end up fainting or coming close to it. First there was that horrible, powerful thing in the DR, now there's some helpless panicking about Kagome thrown in, and I'm never sure if what I'm feeling is what the Killer is experiencing at that moment, or if seeing him in a heightened emotional state is triggering something from the past. I just want to forget all about that stupid girl and him and everything! I get it, she's dead and it's upsetting for everyone all around, but is it really necessary for me to dream about her every night?

It's been getting progressively worse. The memories are more vivid and elaborate. It scared me.

I opened the door to my room without knocking and kicked off my boots as I crawled into bed, not bothering to take off anything else.

It was so bad I tried talking the Professor into taking them away from me, but he won't. For some reason he's hesitant about going inside the Killers head, and he's asked me to tamper as little as possible with anything I've absorbed from him in hopes of figuring out what the guys deal is. It's been less than a week... how much more of this are we going to be able to take? How soon until the Killer loses it and does to us what he did to those kids? I shuddered under the covers. After what he went through tonight, it probably won't be much longer.


End file.
